Prodigy

Chapters

Potaters
Snip Snip
'M' is for Knowledge
Inflection
To Keep a Friend, to Share a Cookie
Star Swirl
Heartfelt
Of Siblings and Sorcerers
The Psychology of an Entomologist
Rebel Without a Crew
Love Maestro
Falling, Phasing, Physicians
Friendship is Magic!... plus Goldie
The Prince of Quislings
The Beginning
Versus
Star Swirl's Extreme Guide to Parties Great and Small

Potaters

Stasis stood quietly in the hallway for several minutes, heartbeat slowing, muscles still quivering slightly from the tension of his flight and fright. As his breathing returned to normal, he tried to think of what he should do now.

The bearded unicorn probably wasn’t a warlock; warlocks, Stasis knew, always dressed up in the skin and entrails of little changelings who didn’t listen to their big brothers and sisters. If the unicorn was a warlock, he was probably the brunt of all the other warlocks’ jokes.

So if the pony was a just a pony…well. Anything that voluntarily wore clothes was at least a little addled, in Stasis’ humble opinion. But the addled old pony seemed to have bought Stasis’ disguise, so maybe his original plan would still work. Maybe he could stay here in this big old pony house, at least until the heat died down. Maybe even until his wing healed, if he could find something to eat.

Of course this brought another question to mind, one that began to weigh heavily upon him. If it wasn’t grimoires and the still-beating hearts of their ancestors…what did old ponies keep in their old houses? He needed to know.

Careful not to touch anything lest it be cursed, Stasis began investigating the house from top to bottom. Most of the rooms were used in some capacity for storage of said junk, although some were clearly accessed more often than others. There were, however, two bedrooms on the second floor. One of them held nothing but a bed, a closet, a dresser, dust, and cobwebs, and the other was furnished almost exactly the same except that the bed wasn’t made and it was a little cleaner. Stasis did not consider himself an expert on such things, but it all seemed rather Spartan to him. Not that that particularly bothered a creature who had spent most of his life sleeping on the forest floor.

There were also a few rooms that were locked, but when Stasis surreptitiously used his phasing spell to enter them anyway, and lit his horn so he could see, he was disappointed that they seemed to just filled with junk, like all of the other rooms. He wasn’t exactly sure what he had been hoping for – bodies, maybe, which he could possibly use to blackmail the crazy old pony, or weapons with which to defend himself – but more junk was surely the most disappointing possibility.

Once he had firmly scouted and secured the premises, Stasis made his way to the kitchen. His stomach was audibly growling now, yet he was forced to again suffer great disappointment as he realized that the only edibles the unicorn had was pony-food. Jam? Brussel sprouts? Daisies? Discord’s tooth, what was he supposed to do with daisies? If only he had had a taste of that filly before the counter-attack…his stomach growled again at the thought.

Hunger overriding sensibility, he carefully sniffed a celery stalk, frowned, and took a bite. It didn’t taste any better than it smelled. It was like eating grass…but even grass can fill you up, at least. As he slowly chewed and swallowed the bitter herb, he began playing fantasies in his mind…a bird, or a dog, or even a rat, still living, so tender, so juicy, so warm…the rich, steaming blood gushing over his fangs and into his maw, filling his belly…even a cat would be fantastic. Didn’t old ponies always have cats? He hadn’t seen a cat, but they were small and quick and hard to catch; maybe he had just missed it. He started to look around the kitchen hopefully as he nibbled on the celery stalk.

There was a loud thump from the front of the house. He heard a slow clopping approaching, and after a few moments the old pony found his way into the kitchen. For a moment, Stasis grew afraid that maybe he wasn’t supposed to be in the pony’s larder, and wished he hadn’t left the celery sticking out of his mouth, but the unicorn just smiled sadly.

“It’s okay, lad. After what happened to you today, I don’t mind you eating a little celery.”

The fear of being caught misappropriating nasty pony food was replaced by the realization that he was supposed to be in mourning. He had been so busy exploring the new house, he had completely forgotten…he sat on his haunches, looked down at the floor, and wiped away an imaginary tear.

“You were right, though.” The unicorn shook his head. “The whole city’s a mess, and I didn’t know a thing about it. Stay cooped up in here a bit too much for my own good, I reckon…” He gave Stasis a sorrowful look. “Lad…did you…are you sure your parents are, you know, dead? Did you actually see it happen?”

Stasis, who had been desperately trying to bring every feeling of aloneness, sadness, and fear that he had experienced over the past several hours to the surface, looking up and nodded mournfully, hoping his eyes were at least a little watery.

The unicorn shook his head once more. “I am so, so sorry, lad. Where…where do you live? Are there any friends or relatives about that you can stay with? Aunts, uncles? Siblings?”

Stasis shook his head sadly and, deciding he’d best elaborate before any more questions were asked, proceeded to recite the little story he’d carefully prepared. “No…my parents were the only family I had left.” Sniffle. “We lived way, way out in the country, in a place there’s not even a name for and that I don’t think I could find my way back to, in a little house in the woods, and we didn’t have much, but Daddy saved up the money he made cutting wood and stuff and took us on a vacation in his wagon to Trottingham, a wagon that was destroyed during all the fighting, and we were gonna stay in the city for a few days, but then…then…” He buried his face in his hooves, wondering if he had overdone it.

The unicorn sighed. “Oh, geeze, lad…look, I’m not going throw you out in the cold or anything, alright? We’ll figure something out.”

Nope. The crazy old pony had taken the bait. Time to go for the kill.

Stasis threw himself at the old pony’s hooves and wrapped his forelegs around one of the unicorn’s, startling him. The changeling mustered as much emotion as he could as he said, “Please…please don’t make me leave, good Sir…I don’t have anywhere to go, and I’m so, so hungry….” The emotion came easier than he had feared, since he had nowhere to go, and was so, so hungry….

The old pony patted him. “It’s going to be alright lad, I promise. Princess Celestia and her guards have run those changelings out on a rail by now, and are busy scouring the city….” He sighed. “And I reckon you can stay with me until we find someplace for you to go. This isn’t really the place for a colt, and I can’t have you running about an breaking things or breaking yourself, but-“

Stasis hugged the gruff, grey pony tighter. “Thank you, thank you, thank you…food. Please, food.”

The unicorn snorted. “You younglings are made out a rubber…don’t matter what happens, you just bounce right back.” Stasis’ tummy found this an opportune time to rumble its distress. “Hollow rubber, I reckon. Alright, I’ll dig you up some grub.”

Stasis froze, suddenly afraid that he was going to have to eat worms or something. He would surely die.

“Though it looks like you already found something to nibble on all by yourself.”

No, not worms. Grass. Such a vast improvement….

The old pony shook his entrapped hoof. “If you let go of my leg, I’ll try and whip you up something.” Stasis released the larger pony and stepped back as the bearded one walked over and started rooting around in the cabinets. “Now, whatcha in the mood for…I got more celery, and brussel sprouts, and lettuce, and…let’s see…I think I’ve got even got some fresh daisies around here somewhere….”

Stasis thought he was going to cry for real this time. He was certain the old pony had stashed the good stuff around here somewhere; surely not even ponies could survive solely on grass and weeds all the time. He tentatively asked, “Do you have anything that’s less, um…green?”

The unicorn gave him an odd look. “Less green? What in the stars your parents been feeding you, lad? Bark?” Stasis remained silent, desperately hoping this was a rhetorical question. Did ponies eat bark? How was he supposed to know?

After a few tense moments, the old pony sighed. “Well, I guess there’s fruit, but the apples I got have gone bad by now…how about potaters? That’s brown, I guess. Or nuts? I got several different kinds of nuts. No green there, unless you count the pistachios.”

“Yes, please.” Stasis had never had either – he had no idea what potaters even were – but they couldn’t possibly be as bad as that celery had been.

The unicorn grunted and began levitating out some various pots, pans, knives, and other cooking utensils Stasis didn’t recognize. A few hours ago, he would have found the location of the knives to be a key defensive factoid. Now, its only relevance lay in his empty gut. Surviving the battle was hardly a victory if he wasted away to nothing here in the kitchen.

Seeing this as an opportunity to fish for information – ‘ignorance is death’ being something of a changeling maxim, since it made lying so much harder – he decided to ask a question that had been bothering him for a while. He asked, “Did you say that Princess Celestia was the big unicorn pegasus thing I saw? The dread goddess from the stories?”

The unicorn shot him another odd look while he chopped big brown blobs – which bore a disturbing scatological appearance in Stasis’ mind – into tiny white chunks. “Alicorn is the word you’re looking for there, lad. And yeah, that was Princess Celestia you saw; Sun Shepherd, they call her, along with a bunch of other things. She’s co-ruler of Equestria, along with her sister Princess Luna. I know both of them; nicer regents you couldn’t ask for, though Luna’s a bit of a quiet one.”

Stasis felt his eyes widen. “You know the goddesses?”

The old unicorn, who was boiling some white chunks and frying others, snorted. He was smiling as he said, “Ain’t got to act so surprised, lad. A more famous pony you’re not likely to meet outside of Everfree City herself; that’s why I had my house built way out here, and why I put that fence up. Couldn’t get any peace before, what with curious ponies sticking their noses in my business all the time.”

Stasis, who was standing with his hind legs on a stool and had his nose stuck in the pot of boiling water, stopped sniffing it and pulled back quickly.

The old stallion laughed. “How is it you speak such nice Equestrian with such a slight accent when you don’t recognize the Princesses and act like you never seen potaters before?”

Practice, Stasis thought. Changelings had little in the way of formal education, but mastering the languages of their prey was absolutely essential to their way of life. You couldn’t infiltrate without it.

The old pony used his magic to levitate over a thick knife. “Here. You’re old enough to know how to use that horn of yours by now, aren’t you? You should be able to cut up some of these vegetables without me having to worry about you cutting yourself.”

Stasis gave the old pony puppy-eyes. “Vegetables? Do I have to?”

The bearded unicorn snorted as he stirred the frying white chunks – which didn’t smell all that unpleasant to Stasis’ sensitive nose. “You must be some kind of new breed of pony I haven’t heard about. Anyway, those vegetables are mainly for me, though I think if you are going to be staying here for very long at all you better get used to ‘em. I’m not feeding you potaters morning, noon, and night, you know.”

Stasis stifled a groan and, levitating a knife with his magic, began chopping the vegetables the bearded stallion had laid out. The thought of using the knife on the old pony and staying here alone briefly crossed his mind, but he suppressed it. Changelings normally didn’t kill their victims without good cause, or at least not on purpose, and besides. If he was good, maybe the old stallion would get him a kitten, or a puppy...Discord’s tooth, he couldn’t wait for those potaters to be done….

The stallion looked over at him and whistled appreciatively. “I can tell you don’t know what you’re doing, but your control of your magic is excellent for somepony so young. I know adult unicorns that can’t chop away as fast as you’re going, not with magic.” Stasis beamed, genuinely pleased. He was a prince among changelings, after all, but that normally only brought him envy or scorn, not compliments. He couldn’t remember the last time any of his family had said something nice about his abilities, just for the sake of being kind. Or if they ever had.

The unicorn chuckled. “Of course, most adults would know to watch what they’re doing rather than just standing there smiling like a nitwit….”

Stasis stopped cutting the air and blinked. The old stallion laughed at him.

“You’re a funny one, lad. And a talent for a magic, well, that’s something I can certainly respect. Maybe I’ll even teach you a few spells after dinner…if you eat your vegetables, that is.” He gave Stasis a stern look, or tried to. His mouth was still smiling.

They’d best be some spells to turn off his taste buds.

As the old pony levitated the chopped vegetables into a separate pot of water, he said, “Now that I think about it, I never did tell you who I am, did I? Though if you didn’t recognize the Princess, you probably haven’t heard of me anyway, living under some rock as you have. My full title is Star Swirl the Bearded, though since you’re such a close friend, you can just call me ‘Sir.’”

* * *

Old pony and little changeling ate dinner together that night at the kitchen table. Stasis had some measure of difficulty paying attention to the bearded one’s elaboration on the condition of the town and its inhabitants, partly because he was already so busy guzzling potaters, and partly because he just didn’t care.

Although potaters weren’t real food, when they were fried they were all greasy and flavory and he barely even had to chew them, instead letting them slide down his gullet all slime-like, as if they were bits of skin or meat or entrails. It was so, so much better than celery. In fact, Stasis had a sneaking suspicion that celery wasn’t really food at all. Poor stupid ponies, probably ate dirt and rocks and stuff too because they didn’t know any better. That was why they were so weak; they were always malnourished.

Well, except for the scary golden ones. They didn’t eat celery, he was certain.

Still, the old one wouldn’t be satisfied until he had forced Stasis to eat the other vegetables as well, like some kind of sinister child-abusing vegetable sadist. The changeling’s only comfort was that if the old pony were just fattening him up to eat him, he was doing a terrible job, what with all these carrots and lettuce leaves and whatnot. Stasis tried to adapt by chewing the food really really fast and then swallowing and washing the gunk down with water before the taste could reach his brain. Alas, this almost caused his stomach to reverse all his hard work, and he was directed to the waste-bin by Star, laughing uproariously all the while. Stupid old pony.

Afterwards, true to his promise, Star Swirl agreed to teach Stasis a new spell. Stasis had really, really wanted to learn the teleportation spell so that he could enact brutal vengeance against the next pony who thought he could whip Stasis around like some kind of changeling yoyo, but no amount of begging or pleading would convince Star that he was ready for something that complex. Stasis didn’t think mentioning that he already knew a little advanced changeling magic would be wise.

Instead, he was taught a spell that could cause a pony to sleep with his eyes open. Not that the sleeping pony could actually see anything, Star assured him, but it was apparently great for boring classes and for pranks. Learning from the old pony was actually more fun than Stasis had expected, even if Star did treat him like a pony foal sometimes. Still, he couldn’t wait to learn how to blast things with lightning and use mind-control and raise the dead and whatnot.

Alas, the fun was soon to end as he was introduced to the uniquely pony concept known as ‘bedtime.’ Apparently, since ponies had access to advanced technologies like candles and oil lamps to let them keep the night at bay, they used the concept of bedtime as a means to enforce strict diurnal cycles on their young, as well as a way to maintain the rigid parental tyranny that dominated their society. Although Stasis could understand the rationale behind the system, that didn’t mean he appreciated it when he was the one being treated like some kind of mental incompetent who couldn’t regulate his own biological cycles. Still, it wouldn’t do for the bearded one to realize the true extent of Stasis’ maturity and wisdom...plus, so far today he had watched his relatives obliterated by a vengeful god, survived a warzone, and then survived pony food. He was pooped.

Crawling into the old bed – Star Swirl had been kind enough to change the dusty old sheets first – Stasis barely registered the old pony closing the door. He was tired, so tired....

…But after several minutes of tossing and turning, turning and tossing, Stasis began to grow frustrated. As exhausted as he was, he just couldn’t go to sleep in these conditions.

For starts, the bed was way too soft. He was used to sleeping naked on rocks and dirt and sticks and things. Sleeping here was like being slowly devoured by a giant marshmallow, the ravenous alabaster confection gnawing and nibbling on his poor back, swallowing him bit by bit as he sunk further into the mattress. Alas, he was fairly certain that normal stupid pony colts slept on beds like this, so he resisted the urge to move down to the wooden floor, no matter how enticing. The pillow was absolutely unacceptable, however; his head sunk so deep into it, he thought he was drowning. He refused to use it, instead trying to sleep with his head underneath it instead. Hopefully that would be close enough. The blankets made him feel like the dark grey chocolaty center of a giant pony s’more, though he dared not remove those either. But the worst part was trying to sleep while wearing his masque.

He knew that adults often went for days, weeks, or sometimes even longer wearing the same masque all day and night. Still, even though he was closer to proper pony size than an adult prince or queen, the masque suddenly seemed terribly tight and itchy, especially across his now-masqued wings. In particular, his left wingtip was driving him crazy. The burnt appendage had actually been hurting some all day, and the masque had been no more comfortable, but there was something about trying to go to sleep that magnified every little itch and aggravation to consciousness-consuming proportions. Now it was annoying him to no end, and he wriggled about tortuously under the sheets, like a giant soft-bodied larva under a piece of rotting wood, trying endlessly to find a position that would leave his poor changeling flesh less irritated, but to no avail. After at least an hour of this, an idea began to form and, although he knew it was a bad one, he was finally able to convince himself otherwise.

He pulled the sheets and blankets way up over his head so that he was completely covered, and then with a delightful feeling of wickedness and daring he dispelled his masque, leaving him deliciously naked. Suddenly, the soft fabrics almost seemed to be kissing his bare flesh, and he streeeeetched out, flexing each of his muscles slowly in turn and giving a slight moan as he felt all of the tension and stress of the day drain away into the mattress. After that, sleep was nearly instantaneous.

Snip Snip

“Rise and shine, my little morning glory. The sun’s up, and now so are you.”

The sun was a selfish, arrogant jerk, insensitive to the plight of little changelings who just wanted to sleep until a decent hour. Stasis would not bend to its tyranny.

Instead he tried to fall back asleep, tried to grasp the dream that fled his waking mind. Normally he only cared about his nightmares; visions of monsters and twisted, wicked things that he and his friends would fight, which was weird since he himself was wicked and didn’t have any friends. Regular old abomination-less dreams were boring and left him feeling like he had wasted his time.

…But this dream had been different. There had been a song, he remembered…a melody sung in a beautiful voice, one low and strong, yet distinctly feminine. A song that left him with a sadness and unease deep in his chest. He tried to remember the words….

“Lad…wake up, lad. We got lots to do today, and only so much daylight to do it in.”

He hissed quietly to himself. His siblings said that, if you were caught by some murderous monster in the forest and could neither fight nor outrun it, you should feign death until they lost interest and went away. He tried that now.

After a few moments, there was a sigh. “If you’re not up in the next ten seconds, lad, I’m going to come over there, rip off your blankets and give your young, tender, blank arse a paddling it’ll not soon forget. Understand?”

Stasis’ eyes shot open. He quickly drew in his limbs – four for walking, two for flying – tight against his body and prayed that the old stallion’s eyesight was bad enough that he couldn’t see the yellow flash as he put back on his masque. Quickly checking over his body in the dim light coming through the blankets, assuring himself that there were no changeling bits showing through, he then dashed out from under the covers…or tried to. Instead, the treacherous blankets seemed to come to life and wrap themselves around his legs, dragging him down, limbs flailing, to crash into the splintery floor below.

It took several moments for him to disentangle himself from the blankets and stand up. He gave the old pony a nervous smile while he tried to shake off a particularly tenacious sheet from one of his hooves.

The hatted, caped unicorn smiled back at him. “…Ten! Glad to see you’re up, lad, but a little sorry too. My paddling hoof’s been a bit sore from lack of exercise lately.” He turned around. “Well, come along, lad. We have to eat breakfast quick; work isn’t going to do itself, you know.” Old as Star was, Stasis still had to trot quickly to keep up with the much longer legs of the elder equine.

Stasis pulled up alongside the older pony as they went downstairs. He was suddenly worried.

“Work?”

The unicorn gave him a wry look. “Aye, lad, work. And if you try to tell me you don’t know what that is, I’ll pop you one across the backside and we’ll see how fast those little legs of yours can run. Got that?”

He was very worried.

As they tucked into the large breakfast Star Swirl had prepared – which included copious amounts of fried potaters, Discord be praised – the stallion explained what it was he expected Stasis to do.

“Normally, it’s an honor to be given the position of city elder. Only the wisest, most experienced ponies are offered the position.” He took a bite of asparagus and, still chewing, continued, “In my case, I let them list me as an elder provided that they excuse me from all of the meetings. I only ever go when I know Mrs. Pastry is going to be there; she always brings me an apple pie, and I’m partial to apple.” He swallowed and took another bite. “However, given what happened yesterday, I’m going to resume my duties as elder. At least for a few days, until the city gets back on its hooves.

“You, on the other hoof, are going to stay here and earn your keep. Idle hooves are Discord’s workshop, as they say, and I think that is especially true for little colts like yourself.” He pointed his fork at Stasis. “So before I go, I’m going to show you how to operate the shears and the mower with your magic so that you can take care of the yard before I get back this evening. Been putting the yard off for far too long, I think.” He levitated their empty dishes over to the sink before looking back at Stasis. “Got that, lad?”

Stasis tried his hardest to look frail and weak as said, “I have to work all day long? With no lunch? I’ll waste away!” He shook his belly to emphasize the point. The gesture would probably have been more effective if his stomach wasn’t bloated with potaters at the time.

The cruel taskmaster snorted. “Melodrama is for little fillies, lad, not strapping young colts like yourself. You aren’t skinny because you’re starving; you’re skinny because you don’t have enough muscle over those bones. Something I intend to rectify forthwith.” He gave Stasis a predatory look.

The changeling found his previous nervousness returning. He’s not going to fatten me up, he thought. He’s going to muscle me up! It was a truly depraved plan. At least the captured little changelings in the stories got to pig out before they were themselves pigged out upon.

Star continued, “Anyways, even somepony as old as me could probably do the whole yard in one day; it’s really not that big. But since you’re such a little thing, though….” He stroked his fantastic beard with one hoof.

“I tell you what. Do what you can this morning and then you can have lunch; you’re welcome to anything in my cupboards, though you’re not allowed to use the stove yet; leaving you to your own devices for a whole day has already got me nervous enough.” He gave Stasis a wry look. “Anyway, once you finish the front yard, you can do whatever you want for the rest of the day.” He paused, and seemed to think about that for a moment.

“Maybe that’s a poor choice of words…anyway, if you do a good job on the yard, and don’t cause any trouble, I’ll teach you another spell when I get home. How’s that?”

That’s it, thought Stasis. Maybe he wasn’t the best at this whole grieving-pony thing, but this old pony was terrible at being an emotionally sensitive and understanding ad hoc foster parent. He decided that he had been going too easy on Star. He decided it was time to throw off the mask of foalish vapidity and puerility and give Star Swirl a piece of his mind.

Prepare thyself, old stallion, to face the wrath of Stasis! He puffed out his chest and summoned his most intimidating expression.

“Well, I think it’s a horrible plan!” He pointed a hoof at the old pony’s chest. “And I think you’re a horrible pony! All you’ve done since I got here is make me eat vegetables and work and stuff, you fascist!”

The old stallion cocked an eyebrow and then leaned in close, as if to tell Stasis a secret.

“Lad?”

“…Yeah?”

“Let me explain something to you, lad. Something really important.” The old pony looked right, then left, and then whispered, “You see, the truth is, I don’t much cater to the touchy-feely theories of child-rearing those prissy psychologists toss around these days.” His icy blue eyes narrowed, and he poked Stasis in the chest. “So let me make this real clear to you now, so there’s no misunderstandings. You see, you’re in my house now, and you will be doing what I say, when I say, or you will be finding yourself stuffed in a bassinet in front of the Trottingham Children’s Home faster’n you can spit.” Star leaned back. “Understand, laddie?”

Stasis blinked. That was not quite how he had expected the conversation to go. Obviously the direct approach was a no-go, so he decided to change tack.

Giving the most obviously-false smile he could manage, he said, “I accept your offer, kind Sir. Please, allow me to mow your yard, trim your hedges, clean your fireplace, dust your floors, paint your walls, and polish your hooves, either with my tongue or in whichever fashion as will best stroke your ponderous, bloated ego.” He laughed fakely. “After all, how many ponies get the opportunity to use grieving orphans off the street as their own personal slaves?”

Stasis hoped the answer to that question was ‘Not many,’ else the old pony might not understand that he was being facetious. Stasis didn’t actually want to clean anything with his tongue; that was gross.

Star Swirl just snorted. “Don’t be a smart-arse. Only I’m allowed to be a smart-arse.” He waved a hoof dismissively. “Anyway, mowing and trimming isn’t as bad as all that. Here, I’ll show you what to do before I head out.” He clopped across the floor to some forgotten room at the rear of the house and removed the appropriate weapons of mass herbicide. Stasis’ ‘education’ on all things pony was broad, but patchy and often shallow. He was pretty sure the big metal contraption that Star called a ‘push mower’ must be used to cut grass, but the thing that was apparently designed to cut vines and whatnot looked better suited for trimming off ponies’ heads than their hedges.

In fact, some of these common garden implements looked so much like armaments that Stasis was beginning to grow excited despite himself. The old unicorn took a few of them outside and, true to his word, taught Stasis their proper use for a few minutes until he was satisfied that the changeling could do a decent job of it. It wasn’t even that hard, not really; not for someling as consummately awesome as Stasis.

Before he left, the old unicorn gave Stasis one last talking-to. Looking down at the changeling, he said, “Well, lad, I was going to tell you what stuff you shouldn’t do while I’m gone…you know, don’t leave the yard, don’t talk to strangers, don’t play pegasus by jumping off the roof. I was a colt once too, you know; I understand just how enticing stupidity can be.”

Stasis tried to picture Star Swirl as a colt. He was the most shriveled, hunched, ornery, bearded old colt that Stasis had ever imagined, and he vowed not to let his flights of fancy take him down such dark paths ever again.

Star continued, “Now, though, I realize that if I try to tell you all the things you’re not supposed to do, it’ll be time for me to come home before I ever get to leave. So instead, I’m going to keep it real simple, so that there’s no misunderstandings. I’m going give you just the one rule.” He glared down at Stasis. “Don’t. Touch. My. Stuff. Don’t touch my stuff. Don’ttouchmystuff don’ttouchmystuff don’ttouchmystuff.” He gestured at Stasis. “Come on, say it with me, lad. I need to know that you’re going to remember this. I need to know that you understand.”

Stasis looked at Star quizzically. “Don’t touch my stuff?”

The old stallion clapped his hooves together. “Good boy! If I had a bone I’d give it to you. Seeing as how I don’t, eh, I guess I’ll just be going.”

A bone? Stasis frowned. That wouldn’t be too bad, if there was still marrow inside, but it still seemed kind of stingy.

Star opened the gate, and stopped. His expression and voice took on a more serious tone as he said, “I’ll be back later this evening, lad. Don’t do anything you shouldn’t.”

Stasis smiled beatifically. “I won’t. I promise.” Bwahahahahahahahaha!

The unicorn nodded and walked towards downtown Trottingham.

* * *

The arrogance of the decrepit old pony was astounding, incredible, fantastic. To think, that Star Swirl thought that he could outmaneuver him, Stasis Silvertongue, prince of changelings, master of manipulation, king of carnage. It blew Stasis’ mind.

Still, it was necessary to give his foolish caretaker the illusion of control, at least for now. So he took up the garden implements with his magic and, loosing a sigh at his continual misfortune, went to work.

Snip snip went the shears. Clickety clickety went the mower. Snip snip. Clickety clickety. Snip, click, snip, click, snip, click. It was dull work at first, but after a few minutes Stasis began to hear the music in the destruction. He realized what he had been forgetting: these were not mere objects, to be cut down without a care or a thought. These were living, growing things.

And he held their pathetic plant lives in his hooves. They were defenseless before his power, helpless before his might, utterly dependent on his mercy.

And he was not a merciful changeling, oh no, not at all. They could scream, they could beg, they could call out to their little plant gods, but he was unstoppable. Not a pony, no longer a changeling, but a force, an idea, as irresistible and inevitable as death itself. He walked, a titan, crushing herbs with every step, a dark lord, cackling madly as he swept his instruments of death over the greenery again, and again, and again.

He could hear the wails. He could see the tears.

Snip snip went the shears. Clickety clickety went the mower.

When he had finally had his fill, he looked out over the yard, once so vibrant, so full of life. No longer. What had been full, now lay barren. Where there had been chaos, now order remained. Only a short layer of grass, those few inches that had survived, struggled in vain to resist his perfect world. His pristine wasteland.

He looked out over the yard, his yard, and was pleased. And hungry. Deciding that it was probably about time for lunch, he went inside to fix himself something to eat.

After a completely unsatisfying and unfilling meal of vegetables, he was a bit tired. Normally he’d laze about and take a nap in the shade before his pony lessons in the evening, but he only had a matter of hours before the old one got back from his ridiculous philanthropic mission, and there was still so much to do. Star Swirl’s words still echoed in his ears.

Don’t touch my stuff.

Stasis snickered. Oh, that poor, foolish pony. The little changeling felt what was probably pity in his heart. It felt a lot like schadenfreude, but it was probably pity.

He immediately set to work. Trinkets were touched. Gadgets were sniffed. Doodads were licked. Stasis had no idea what most anything was for, and at the moment he didn’t really care. He would touch all of Star Swirl’s things, and there was nothing that tedious old geezer could do about it.

He wasn’t some cowardly pony, either, to just levitate things with his magic. He wasn’t completely certain that would even violate the command ‘do not touch.’ So, he made sure that everything made physical contact with his body, hoof, ear, nose, eye, tongue, whatever was available at the moment. Nor was he some half-wit bumbler, to leave any evidence of the wrongdoing. He was an artist, a master craftsling of the base and beastly. He carefully analyzed the position of each book, bone, and bauble, assuring that he could return it to its exact position afterwards, nopony the wiser.

It was the covert nature of the crime that made it so delightful. This wasn’t some overt rebellion, designed to frustrate an authority figure, its success or failure dependent on that pony’s reaction. No, no…Stasis was not so crass. No, this was a secret sin, a private iniquity, the kind you kept close to your heart and treasured forever. It was wickedness for its own sake, the best kind. That old fogy would come home, thinking not amiss, never realizing the desecrations that occurred there that very day. Stasis gave an evil cackle, but a bit of dust got lodged in his throat and it turned into an evil hacking cough instead.

The entire main room had been defiled and Stasis was busy working on the junk in one of the rooms in the rear of the house when he heard the front door open and shut. Swiftly but calmly spitting some small and mildly bitter doohickey out of his mouth and placing it back where he found it, he put on his game face and trotted out to the front of the house to greet his new caretaker.

He beamed up at the old stallion, who was kicking the dirt off his hooves on the mat by the front door, but before Stasis could decide on an appropriately asinine pony greeting like ‘how was your day?’ or ‘did you have a good time?’ the old stallion looked at him with an indecipherable expression and said, “So. Lad. I see you touched my stuff.”

Stasis froze for moment – but only a moment. He had received extensive training for moments just like this one.

“No I didn’t.”

“Yes you did. Look.” Star Swirl pointed a hoof at one of the numerous books on the table. “That book right there is at perfect right angles to the table. I’m sure when I left that it was cocked a few degrees to the left.”

Stasis narrowed his eyes. I think you’re bluffing, old stallion. I’m sure I left that book exactly the way I found it. He wasn’t offended at the accusation per se, since it was completely true. It was the idea that he would make such a foalish error that made him angry. That he could make such an error. His technique was flawless; it had been the perfect crime.

He sat on his haunches and crossed his forelegs across his narrow chest. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

The large pony frowned at him. “You don’t think I know my books, lad? I’d sooner mislay my own tail than one of them.”

“Well, you know, it’s not uncommon for ponies your age to forget little things like, say, the exact relative orientation of one book in a house that’s crammed full of books,” offered Stasis.

Star Swirl grunted. After a few moments of silence, he said, “Well…I have been forgetting things more than I used to. And….” He sighed. “I’m sorry I snapped at you, lad…it was just a bit rough out there today. Main street’s been blown to rubble. Buildings were damaged all over downtown. I reckon there must be bits and pieces of the constabulary headquarters all across the city. Several dozen ponies are dead and hundreds are wounded…physical injury. Acute anemia. Psychological trauma. Princess Celestia had the worst-off airlifted to Canterlot General, and it’s still iffy how many of them are going to make it.”

Stasis forgot that he was miffed at the old pony and looked at him earnestly. “Did the Queen make it? How is she?”

Star looked confused. “You mean the Princess?”

He waved a hoof dismissively. “No, no, not…her. The Queen of the changeling family!” He was careful not to use Mother’s real name, in case the ponies didn’t know it. Best not to give the game away with a foalish mistake like that.

The unicorn’s expression settled into one of mild disapproval, his mouth curving downward slightly into a frown. “Of course. Her. Well, as far as anypony knows she’s just fine, lad. Streaked out of the city faster’n you can blink the second the Princess lost her temper. Most of the rest of the changelings escaped, but a whole lot of them didn’t.”

Stasis felt himself relax a bit, releasing tension he didn’t even know he had. The thought of his dead siblings made him feel uncomfortable, but it wasn’t really something he had to deal with right now. He had his hooves full as it was. But Mother…she was the most permanent thing in the world, and while he knew she could die, it actually happening was almost unimaginable. And without her his family would be lost as well; they would almost certainly perish unless they could find another queen willing to take them in, which was not guaranteed, especially for the weak and sickly.

None of which was to say that he actually liked Mother very much. She could be even meaner than Star sometimes, and it was impossible to manipulate her with petty emotions and tears and whatnot. She always knew exactly what Stasis was up to, no matter how tricky he tried to be, and he feared her weakest reprimand more than his siblings’ strongest.

As far back as he could remember, he had known that he was a prince, and had had at least a small grasp of what that entailed for himself. But it had been older siblings who had first explained to him what it meant to Mother: though she was very, very old, older than anyling in his family knew, she had never had a true child before. Baby queens were considered a great blessing from the Progenitor, given to any queen who had faithfully carried out her responsibilities to her family. Mother had lived for centuries, watching as countless generations of her children were born, lived, and died. Seas of blue, but not a single speck of green. Some of the other eldest Queens had even begun to shun Mother, saying that she was barren. Every daughter of Change who lives long enough will bear a true daughter of her own, yet naught but underlings do we see. Mother had taken her family farther to the east than any of the others, as far as she could go and still meet regularly with Father. Stasis’ siblings had whispered that it was because Mother was ashamed, though Stasis had great difficulty imagining Mother experiencing any such emotion.

It had been a great shock to all, then, when finally Mother bore not a green-eyed daughter, but a yellow-eyed son. Though a prince would never die of age or sickness, there were still only several score in the entire world, and most queens would never bear one no matter how long they lived. The Progenitor had seen her suffering and taken pity on her.

This all explained, then, not why Stasis was treated differently from the others – he had always known that – but why Mother looked at him the way she did. He had never seen her smile, though his siblings assured him that she could…but when she looked at him, he could always see the pride in her eyes. For a long time that had made him happy, that Mother was so proud of him, even if she never said so.

But when he learned the truth of what he meant to Mother, he had realized something else. The pride he saw when looked into her eyes was not pride in him, but pride in her accomplishment, in what she had done. Not in him. Never in him.

He felt his jaw clench slightly. Well, it didn’t really matter what Mother thought of him, and it certainly didn’t matter what his siblings thought. When he grew up he was going to be far greater than all of them, and they knew it. He was going to be a father, and they would all fear and respect him just like they feared and respected Mother. More, even. And unlike her, he was not completely dependent on family for his strength and protection; his own body and magic were all the power he needed. He wouldn’t need them when he was an adult, and he didn’t need them now.

He realized that Star had said something to him. He blinked. “Huh?”

The unicorn looked concerned. “I asked if you were alright, lad. You were spacing out there.”

Stasis shoved his thoughts to the side and put on a smile. “Yeah! I’m fine.”

Star looked unconvinced, but after a moment he just shrugged. “Okay. I saw you did a great job in the yard today, lad. How’d it go? Grass give you any trouble?”

Stasis scoffed. “Hardly. I cut them down like the worthless dogs they are.” His smile became genuine. “Their loved ones have vowed vengeance.” He snickered wickedly to himself.

Star scratched the back of his neck. “Uh…alright. And the vines?”

“Discord feasts on their souls as we speak. May their screams-”

“You know, I think it’s time for dinner,” Star interrupted rudely. “Come along and help me fix it.”

Stasis balked. “What? But I already worked so hard today….” It was true. Working his way through all the junk in the lower floor had been exhausting.

“Aye, and you’re almost done. Come along.” The larger pony turned and walked into the kitchen, his bells jingling as he walked. Stasis muttered under his breath as he followed.

The fantastically bearded pony scanned over the stacked dishes, and glanced back at the little changeling with a wry look. “You didn’t do the dishes.”

Stasis repressed a groan. “You didn’t tell me to do the dishes….” You absent-minded geriatric being the unspoken ending to that sentence.

“No, that’s true,” Star said. “But you can’t go through life just doing what you’ve been told. You’ve got to take the initiative. And that most definitely includes household chores.” Star adjusted his hat. “This isn’t some kind of free hotel, you know. You’re not going to sit around on your arse all day while I do all the work. If you’re going to be getting under my hooves all the time and eating all my potaters like some kind of giant four-legged parasprite, you’re also going to be pulling your own weight. Understand?”

Stasis gave what he hoped was an noncommittal grunt, affirmative enough to get the old pony off his back while still leaving him wiggle room if he wanted to claim ignorance later.

“Good.” The unicorn beckoned. “Come on; I’m going to teach you how to fix potaters yourself this time.”

Stasis sighed and walked forward, dragging his hooves. He would have protested further but he figured that if the old pony realized how annoying all this work was, it would just encourage him.

True to his word, Star took the time to teach him to properly cut and season and fry the potaters, and Stasis grudgingly paid attention. He could still remember what lunch had been like that day, after all, and did not wish to repeat the experience.

They ate dinner together in silence, Stasis quietly musing on his many misfortunes as of late and Star thinking hard on whatever it was ponies thought about. When they were both finished, the big stallion forced the little changeling to clear the table and together they began work on the pile of dishes that had built up that day.

They worked at a slow, comfortable pace for a few minutes, Star washing the dishes and Stasis rinsing and drying them before the unicorn, speaking slowly and clearly enunciating each word, said, “I just wanted to thank you again for your hard work today, lad. I’ve been putting off yard-work for far too long, and it means a lot to me that you would do that.”

Stasis grunted as he levitated a plate under the faucet. Some of his nicer brothers and sisters would compliment him on things sometimes, but receiving one from prey was kind of weird. He wasn’t sure if he liked it.

“Also,” the old pony continued, “I want to say that you did a great job of it.” He turned and looked Stasis in the eye. “An excellent job, even. Thank you.”

Stasis quickly broke eye contact and shrugged. He couldn’t help but smile though.

“Of course,” Star continued, “I’m still seriously reconsidering ever letting you near my yard again. Lawn care seems to have a bad influence on you.”

Stasis just smiled wider, showing teeth.

After the dishes were through, Star Swirl agreed to teach Stasis a new spell. Tonight it was a very basic transmutation spell, applying magic to turn something into something else. This time he was supposed to turn a black marble red. Whereas the spell from the previous night had borne many similarities to a masque spell, Stasis found this new one actually rather difficult, being clearly unicorn magic, the thought patterns so much more logical and rigid than the organic, nearly instinctive nature of changeling thaumaturgy. Furthermore, the spell wasn’t merely making the marble appear red, but was actually making it red through and through, a significantly more involved process. Between that and Star’s excessive explanations of why the spell worked, rather than simply how, the little changeling quickly began to grow frustrated with the entire exercise. After a few minutes Star seemed to notice his struggling, and paused in the middle of an explanation of the energy-expended-to-size-of-object ratio.

“What’s the problem, lad?” His brow was furrowed.

Stasis frowned. “I don’t need to know all this stuff in order to use the spell. Can’t you just teach me the patterns?”

Star cocked an eyebrow. “In a word…no.”

Stasis folded his forearms across his chest and scowled. What he should have done yesterday was find the largest family in Trottingham and ask them to take him in instead. Life was much easier when your parental figure was too busy or apathetic to meddle in your affairs. Instead, he had somehow managed to break into the one house in Trottingham with an old geezer who had nothing better to do than torture little changelings with useless information and chores. He wondered if it was too late to put himself up for adoption.

Star Swirl barked a laugh. “No need to pout, lad. Anyway, you didn’t really think I was going to teach you every spell you’ll ever need to know, did you? There’s books for that sort of thing.” He shook his head. “No, what I’m really trying to teach you is not the how of magic, but the why.”

“Huh?” Stasis had been in the middle of planning how he could set up a new base of operations in the home of a drunkard or maybe a single mother, but this sounded important.

“Well, first, learning how stuff works is fun. Transmutations, conjurations, physics, chemistry…even the stuff they teach college kids who fail math, psychology and philosophy and whatnot, are all fun to learn.” Star took on a more serious expression. “But more importantly, you can never truly master a subject unless you understand why what you do works. For example, anypony can learn to plug numbers into an equation, but to come up with equations of your own, to be a true mathematician, you must also understand why that equation does what it does. It’s the same with magic. I could never have invented the amniomorphic spell without a deep knowledge of magic in general, transmutation magic in particular, and prenatal biology.”

“But I don’t want to be a mathematician. Or a magician.” Stasis was pretty good at math; he could add and subtract three digit numbers in his head with consummate skill; even four digit numbers were not beyond his domain. Unlike some of his dumber siblings, he need never fear paying for groceries if he ever needed to, as long as he had somepony there to tell him the prices. However, doing that kind of thing all day sounded terribly boring.

As for magic…he did like magic, that was true; much more so than math. He enjoyed the power and wild nature of it; whereas Star Swirl talked about magic like it was just another one of his ‘sciences,’ to Stasis it seemed more like an extension of his being that needed to be tamed, not understood. At least he hoped that was the case, because if the only way to master magic was to become an old geezer who cooped himself in a dark house reading books all day, then Stasis was never going to get very good.

The old pony raised a bushy eyebrow. “Well, what do you want to do with your life, lad?”

“Um….” He was supposed to become a demigod, quintessence of his race and father of thousands of thousands. What did that translate to in pony? He was drawing a blank.

Before he could think of anything, Star interrupted by saying, “It’s alright, lad. You’re only what, six, seven?”

“Uh….” These questions just kept getting harder and harder. Most changelings didn’t pay much attention to such things, and he certainly didn’t. He was going to live forever, so his age just didn’t seem very important.

Luckily, Star just snorted and kept on talking. “Well, you’re young enough, anyway. Plenty of time to figure out what you want to do. Who you want to be. But in the meantime, I’m going to do my best to give you all the tools you need to be successful no matter what path you take.” He cocked an eyebrow. “Do you understand?”

Stasis nodded. Unlike ponies, his destiny wasn’t tattooed on his butt; it flowed in his veins, shone in his eyes. When he went back to his family in a few days or weeks, he would be leaving Star Swirl and all his metaphorical tools far behind.

“Good,” Star said. “Now, why don’t you try the spell again.”

An hour of semi-attentive listening and concentration passed, and Stasis was staring at the marble. He ran over the patterns in his mind, reached out to the small black sphere, and began allowing power to trickle into his horn. When he felt that he finally had enough, he released the energy in a small yellow beam aimed at the marble.

There was a flash and the marble was red. He could see Star Swirl smile and open his mouth, but before the old pony could say anything Stasis altered the spell ever so slightly and swiftly recast it, and the marble was green. Again, and it was blue. A flicker of thought, a smidgen of power, and it was black again.

The wizard laughed. “Enough! I see you get it, lad. Excellent. Just excellent.”

Stasis gave Star a somewhat skeptical, somewhat hopeful look. “Was it really that good?” He had thought it been pretty pathetic, that it should take him so long to cast such a simple spell. He could walk through walls, for Discord’s sake. It shouldn’t have taken over an hour to learn how to make a black marble into a red one.

“Good?” The pony leaned his hairy face in close to Stasis’. “Listen, lad. Most unicorns your age struggle to levitate anything bigger than a pencil. Most whose special talent isn’t magic or something directly related to transmutation never learn to cast that spell at all. So yes, I would say that was pretty good.”

Stasis smiled hesitantly. He still wasn’t convinced that it was that great a feat, leastways not for him, but at least he remained clearly superior to ponies. That was the important thing.

Star slowly sat back on his haunches, several of his joints popping as he did so. This seemed to cause him to grimace for a moment before he said, “Okay, lad. I think that’s enough excitement for today. It’s time for you to head off to bed. You’ve got a big day ahead of you tomorrow.”

That sounded ominous. “What do you mean?”

“I mean,” the old pony replied, “that tomorrow is your first day of school. You’ll have to get up at dawn if you want to have time enough to eat breakfast and get ready, so you’d best get some shuteye.”

Stasis sat there and stared blankly at Star Swirl’s beard. The old pony frowned.

“Lad? Are you alright?”

The changeling’s mind began to work again. After a few moments he was able to ask, “What?”

Star raised an eyebrow quizzically. “Are you hard of hearing, lad? I’ve told you twice now to go to bed.”

“But…but…how can the schools be open already? There was a huge battle in downtown yesterday. You were telling me just a little while ago about all the damage!”

Star Swirl nodded somberly. “Aye, the town has been ravaged. Many ponies’ homes and businesses were damaged or even destroyed, friends and relatives are hurt or dead, and the city is still in mourning. But we’re not going to sit around and mope about it. The changeling army is long gone, the royal guard have once more secured the border, and we Trottinghammers are industrious folk; the sooner we pick up the pieces, the better.” The old pony shifted the hat on his head slightly, the bells tinkling as he did so. “I was in council with the mayor and the other town elders today, and we all agreed that it was best to reopen our public facilities as soon as possible. That includes the schools. Nopony’s going to get in trouble for not attending for a while, of course, but we want the children’s lives to get back on track soon as we can.”

Stasis put a bit of a whine in his voice. “But what about my parents? I’ve only just been orphaned!”

In his large family, death was a common occurrence. His siblings told him that many, many years ago, Mother used to eat any good changelings that died; it had been a large part of her diet. You begin in Mother and end in Mother was what they used to say. Only the most recalcitrant or lazy changelings would have their bodies thrown out into the wild to be devoured by animals instead.

Sometimes she would still revert back the old ways if a changeling requested it before he or she died. But as pony culture spread, she slowly and reluctantly began to give into requests by her children to be buried; now, if a changeling died in good standing, she would allow his or her closest siblings to take the corpse out into another part of the forest. There they would bury the body, usually at the base of a tree so that the changeling could become a part of the forest forever, or sometimes under a large rock so that the body wouldn’t be dug up by animals. Then the underlings would sing songs for their dead sibling and tell stories about him or her until the sun sank in the sky and it was time to go home.

If a changeling was especially beloved and important, sometimes Mother would give a eulogy in the pony fashion and then allow the whole family to mourn for the entire day. That had never happened as long as Stasis had been alive, and he didn’t really understand the reasoning it; if something ever killed him, he wanted everyling to be beside themselves with grief, not happy that they got the day off. Mother should make them all work twice as hard.

But ponies seemed to handle death differently; it was apparently always a big deal to them when somepony they knew died. Stasis knew that ponies his age went to school, but he had been sure that he would get out of it since he was supposedly an orphan now. After all, losing their parents was surely the worst thing that could happen to a pony; it was certainly the worst thing that could happen to a changeling.

Star Swirl, who had appeared to be thinking over Stasis’ objection, finally looked at him and said, “I tell you what. If you want to grieve…well. I’m certainly not going to stop you from doing that. But you’ll do it in your room and that’s all you’ll do until you’re finished. If you’re feeling well enough to do anything fun, then you’re well enough to go to school tomorrow. Understand?”

Stasis sighed. He had less than no interest in going to school tomorrow, but he did want to do fun things. Maybe it was better if he just got the whole school thing over with so that he could finish touching all of Star Swirl’s stuff.

“Good,” Star said, without waiting for Stasis’s reply. “Now for the third and final time: off to bed with you, lad. I’ll be seeing those pretty eyes of yours wide awake first thing tomorrow morning.”

Stasis muttered a few mild invectives in the old tongue as he made his way up the creaky stairs.

'M' is for Knowledge

As the old wizard plodded home, changeling in tow, they received an inordinate number of stares from passers-by. Whether this was because they saw a little grey colt floating about in a magical bubble or because of because of how Star was dressed, Stasis couldn’t say.

What was more important, however, was that Stasis had finally managed to control and stop his rotation via careful swim-like strokes against the air. This was good, as the doughnuts from earlier had been churned up during the battle, and all the spinning had confused Stasis’ stomach; it didn’t seem to remember which end of the little changeling it was supposed to use, and he had started to feel very sick. While he had liked the sugary pastries well enough, he hadn’t liked them so much that he wanted them floating around with him in his little bubble.

Tummy tamed, Stasis began to wonder how things might have gone if Star Swirl didn’t hate the little changeling so much.

‘Aye, your mighty display sent my bells a-jingling with fright!’ he might have said.

‘Aye, like a wee little girl I am next to you, lad! Hohohohoho!’ he might have said.

‘Aye, would you like to ride home in a magic bubble?’ he might have said.

Instead, Stasis could feel the anger roiling about under the big pony’s skin, a few other emotions such as fear and relief floating about like potaters in a pot of boiling water. The little changeling began to grow nervous.

…Star wouldn’t really hurt Stasis, would he? The little changeling still vividly remembered the time he had finally managed to escape from his guardians; he had wandered the forest for a little while before hiding in a cave. It had seemed like a really good idea at the time. He figured that they would give up looking for him after a while, and then he could go exploring on his own like all the other younglings. He would just go back home when he got hungry and explain that he had gotten lost. Noling would be the wiser.

It wasn’t his fault that there was an Ursa Major in that cave, or that he woke it up from its nap. If his siblings had let him go exploring like he wanted to, then they probably would have bothered to explain to him that caves in the forest are rarely unoccupied, and nothing bad ever would have happened.

When the Ursa chased him back home, trees shattering like twigs under its paws, jaws snapping at him like he was just a little fly…that had been the second…no, the third-scariest moment of his life up until now. The scariest moment of his life, though, was after Mother had finished killing the Ursa and lost her clutch. She had looked really pale and sick and blood had still been dripping out of her nethers while she told her biggest, strongest warriors, the Killings, what they were going to do to Stasis. After he got better, the little changeling had never, ever tried to go out on his own again.

Nothing Star Swirl could do could possibly be as bad as what had happened to him back then, he was certain…but the old wizard was an old wizard, after all. He could still probably do all kinds of terrible things to Stasis, if he wanted to. He could take away Stasis’ horn, and leave him just a boring earth-pony-changeling. He could turn Stasis into a giant potater and cook him up in a stew with lots and lots of vegetables. Or worse…he could even use an age spell and make Stasis into a creaky, grumpy old geezer like he was. The stories told of all the horrible things a high-level wizard could do to you if you made him angry enough.

As the paint-peeling walls of the old pony mansion finally came into view, Stasis made one last, desperate attempt to break free from his bubble, this time using his own magic to try to dispel that which held him. It should have been easy…the more magic something has, the ‘slippier’ it is to levitate, and despite his littleness, Stasis had an awful lot of magic in his body to be levitated. But Star Swirl’s spell was a vice; Stasis strained and pushed until his horn began to fizzle and pop and ache, and he still couldn’t feel any give at all. The old pony didn’t even seem to notice.

They entered the house – Stasis giving a small yelp as his head nearly smacked into the doorframe – and Star Swirl walked slowly across the floor to the fireplace, turned around, sat on his haunches, and set Stasis gently down on the floor, removing his spell with a small flash. Stasis thought about running away again, but the old pony’s expression suggested that that would be unwise.

Star Swirl cleared his throat. “Now. Lad. Why don’t we start with why you didn’t come home after school.”

Stasis had prepared for exactly this question. “Well, you never told me to come home straight after school,” he challenged. It was true; if he had known that he was supposed to come home right away, he would have been more careful not to get caught.

Star opened his mouth, expression wrathful, but then he seemed to bite off his reply. After a few moments of glowering, he said, “Fine. I can accept that there’s a glimmer of a sliver of a chance that you didn’t know what you were doing was wrong. But from now on, if I didn’t tell you to do something, and it’s something you actually want to do, odds are good it’s something you shouldn't. Understand, lad?” The look he gave Stasis suggested that he better understand.

The little changeling nodded. He had known for quite some time now that if he wanted to do something, it was probably something bad. That’s just how he rolled.

Glad that the two of them could reach such an understanding, Stasis got up and turned to leave.

“Next I time I see that backside before I want to see it, lad, I’ll give it a cutie-mark the shape and size of my hoof.”

Stasis sat back down.

“Not coming home was just a misdemeanor, lad,” the old pony continued menacingly. “Now we talk about the felony.”

Stasis didn’t like the sound of this. He wondered if he should seek counsel.

“Why,” Star continued in a suddenly ever-so-agreeable tone of voice, “did I find you smack-dab in the middle of beating up Pierce at the park today? Explain it to me. I’m all ears.” Surrounded in a glow of magic, the wizard’s hat lifted off his head and Stasis could see that the aforementioned appendages were indeed perked forward, ready and eager to listen to the little changeling’s explanation.

“Well,” Stasis began sensibly, “if you hadn’t shown up at the park when you did….”

“Really, lad?” The big pony cut him off rudely, setting his hat back on his head. “Really? That’s what you’re going with, a smart-arse comment? Because a truly smart lad would know better than to push my buttons right now.”

Stasis decided that the old pony had a point. Thinking quickly, he realized that if he lied, Star Swirl could probably just cross-examine the other ponies at the park, and they would probably not go out of their way to portray the little changeling in a positive light. He had seen Mother use that technique before, when she wanted to get to the truth of a matter. That’s why Stasis tried to remember not to lie outright about things he had done when there were witnesses. He would just have to risk the truth and see where that got him.

“Well,” he began again, “the other ponies were making fun of me because I wasn’t as good at Frisbee as them.” He had just cause.

“And?”

“And…I didn’t like it?” he offered. Though ‘hated’ would have been a better word. He’d been keeping a mental list of all his siblings who mocked him for some time now. It was a big list.

“And?” the old pony said again.

“And…I figured out that Pierce was their leader, and then beat him up?” He saw the look on Star’s face, and then hastily added, “But I only beat him up because I wanted to be their leader instead! If it hadn’t been for that, I might’ve just as easily beaten up one of the others.”

Thinking on what he had said for a few moments, Stasis wondered if maybe he could have phrased that in a different way.

“Oh?” Star Swirl’s eyes widened. “Oh! I get it.” He nodded. “So what you’re saying is that if I know somepony who makes me angry and I want to be the boss of, I should, I don’t know, just go grab one of the frying pans out of the kitchen and beat his little hiney red?” He raised an eyebrow inquisitively.

Stasis shook his head. “No, you should use a Frisbee instead,” he explained. Then frowned.

“Wait…were you talking about me?”

Star Swirl put his face in his hooves. “Oh, stars above…what I am going to do with you, lad?”

“You could make me cut the lawn again.”

The old pony groaned. “Oh, lad…just…just go to your room for right now. I have to think about this.”

Stasis obeyed eagerly. He hadn’t been beaten, or yelled at, or turned into anything unnatural at all; it had gone even better than he had hoped. Still…maybe he should avoid getting into any more fights for a few days, until Star Swirl forgot about this whole business.

Well…initiating any fights, at least. Anypony who picked a fight with Stasis were getting what was coming to them: round, red, and right across the bottom.

As he shut the door to his room behind him, however, he realized that he was already bored. Thinking of the things he could do, he happened to notice his bed, just sitting over there next to the wall. Serving no useful purpose, really, now that it wasn’t bedtime. Images of a little changeling bouncing on that bed began to play through his mind.

Just as his hooves began to take him towards the mattress of their own accord, another thought occurred to him. Star Swirl had a bed. That one wasn’t doing anything either; just sitting there, waiting for someling to bounce on it.

It was only as he was in the finishing stages of the phase spell that would take him through the wall and into the next room (not wishing the sound of opening doors to alert Star Swirl to his scheme) that he realized the critical flaw in the plan: he was exhausted. All of today, in fact, had been exhausting. He had been doing nothing but something from the time he had gotten up until now. He needed to nap, pronto.

Now that he was considering the bed’s natural function, he found himself much less interested. Since it was daytime, he figured that he could get away with not using it. He instead looked about the room’s plank floor carefully.

Normally he’d make a little pile of leaves and moss wherever he wanted to nap, but seeing no such materials lying about, he instead took some small pleasure in tearing the blankets off of Star’s ever-so-carefully-made bed. Dragging them over to the corner of the room behind the bedframe, he arranged them into a small, soft nest; sort of like Mother’s nest, but more Stasis-sized, and without all the eggs.

Not bothering with formalities, the little changeling collapsed into his nest, carefully aiming his body as it fell so that it would land right about the center.

…And he awoke some time later. He wasn’t sure why he’d woken up, except that he didn’t like it.

“Come on, lad. I need to talk to you.”

He didn’t like it one bit. He mumbled something that might have been ‘please, go ahead and talk,’ but he was already asleep again before he could hear the words and find out.

…A strange sensation enveloped the little changeling…a sort of weightlessness, much like what he had experienced when he was in his bubble. He would have thought he was dreaming, save that the dream only seemed to make him sleepier. He felt his body turning slightly, and then his hooves made contact with a hard floor and he felt his weight dragging him down again. He would have fallen back asleep just standing there, but then his eyes opened of their own accord. Before him was a wizard.

“That’s better,” the hairy old wizard said. “I take it you’re listening close? This is important.”

Stasis nodded solemnly. The part where Star Swirl had mind-controlled his eyelids had woken him up.

“Good. Now, lad….” The old pony stroked his beard absently, looking uncomfortable. “I know things have been rough on you these past few days. Losing your family…living in a new place…all of that. And so first off, I just want to say that, given the circumstances, you’ve been very brave.”

Stasis nodded again. It was true; he was very brave.

The old pony’s blue eyes met the little changeling’s yellow ones. “But lad, you have to stop causing mischief. When you didn’t come home from school, I thought….” Star Swirl shook his head. “Well, I thought something terrible might have happened, and how was I to know any different if I didn’t know where you were?”

Star lifted his backside and, levitating Stasis’ nest beneath him, he sat on it. Stasis hoped that it wouldn’t smell like mothballs and dusty old books from now on.

“And as for Pierce….” the wizened old wizard continued. “Let me explain something to you, lad. Remember how I said he was the Chief Constable’s son?”

Stasis nodded, more hesitantly this time. He hadn’t even thought about the fact that Pierce would have a father around. He wasn’t going to come beat up Stasis now, was he? Is that what pony fathers did?

Oblivious to the little changeling’s concern, Star continued, “Well, Pierce’s dad Sampson is as close a friend as I have on the city council. With everypony else it’s always, ‘Good morning, Mr. Swirl,’ or ‘That sounds like a fantastic idea, Mr. Swirl.’ With Sampson, though, it’s always been, ‘Why do you always dress like such a ninny, Mr. Swirl?’ or ‘That idea sounds like it came from the bottom of a barrel of my granny’s apple cider, Mr. Swirl.’”

The old pony sighed. “He always was such big, jolly ass.”

“Pierce’s father is a donkey?” Stasis exclaimed. His tutors must have gotten the whole pony-donkey-mule thing completely mixed up.

Star gave the confused little changeling an exasperated look. “Not that kind of ass, lad. Anyway, what I was trying to say is that Big Sampson was lucky enough not to be in the Constable headquarters when the changeling queen brought it down. Unluckily…most of his friends were.

“A group of most of the remaining constables and a number of other brave ponies had taken up position behind a barricade of rubble and overturned carriages that they’d set up in the middle of the road, trying to keep her attention on them until help could arrive.” Star shook his head. “Well, it worked – the distraction I mean, not the barricade. While she was cutting them down, Sampson picked up a big, broken piece of glass and snuck around behind her. And-” The old pony’s voice cracked a little. He cleared his throat and continued, “And do you know what happened, lad?”

“What?” Stasis asked, eyes wide.

“Well, she noticed him, apparently. Poor fellow was meant for eating and laughing, serving warrants and breaking up marital disputes, not sneaking and killing. She took the piece of glass away with her magic, sat on her haunches, picked him up in her hooves like he was a just a child such as yourself, and broke his back right across her knee. Didn’t say a word, just threw him away like he was a piece of trash she found by the side of the road.”

Star stopped then and gave the little changeling an expectant look. Stasis fidgeted uncomfortably; he wasn’t sure what he was supposed to say. After a few moment he offered, “Well, if Sampson and the others hadn’t tried to kill…the queen, then maybe they wouldn’t have gotten hurt so badly.”

They might have been drained of some of their energy, or even their blood, but they probably would have recovered. The small hamlets and villages out west knew better than to fight back piecemeal if changelings were attacking.

The old pony sighed and shook his head sadly. “Maybe so, lad. But I suppose my point is that Pierce’s dad is a cripple now, and I’m surprised the colt’s even back in school so soon. He’s a good, strong lad, just like his father.” Star’s gaze looked distant for a few moments before he continued, “When I put you in the fifth grade, I had hoped that the older students would keep you from causing trouble. Obviously I was wrong.”

Stasis fidgeted some more. “Well, I-“

“I’m going to be straight with you, lad,” Star Swirl interrupted. “I can’t make you be good. I can’t make you do what’s right. And if you want to mess with me, in my house, that’s one thing. I’m a tough old nut; I can take it. But if you misbehave out there-“ the old pony said, gesturing towards downtown Trottingham, “if you lie, or if you steal, or if, stars forbid, you hurt other ponies….” The big wizard shook his head, his expression taut. “There’s going to be trouble, lad. Not trouble for me. Not trouble for Pierce. Trouble for you, lad.”

Stasis shifted. “What kind of trouble?”

“Big trouble,” Star clarified. “The kind that really, really makes you wish you had listened to old Star Swirl when you had the chance.”

Old Star Swirl stared at the little changeling, expression intense, and finally Stasis couldn’t stand it anymore.

“I promise I won’t be as bad,” he said, not sure if he meant it and not really caring at the moment.

“Oh, don’t promise anything to me, lad. It’s not me that I’m worried about. It’s you. You’ve got a sharp mind, a strong body, and magic like I’ve not seen in a lad your age. I just don’t want to see you throw all that away for nothing.”

Stasis really, really hoped that this conversation was over soon. He liked jerk-Star Swirl a lot more than…whatever this was.

The old pony looked contemplative. “Throw them away…what does…oh! Right.”

A familiar rectangle levitated out of some dark recess of the wizard’s cape.

“That reminds me. I realized after I sent you up here that I had left your saddlebags at the park, and was just getting up the gumption to go get them when there was a knock on the door, and lo and behold, I found some orange colt out on the steps with your bags. What a nice lad. I gave him a cookie. Anyway –“

“A cookie?” Stasis queried.

Star looked at him for a moment and then laughed. “Ha! You didn’t think all I had around here were fruits and vegetables, did you? Goodness, no. Old stallion’s got to keep his blood sugar up.”

Stasis demanded an explanation. “Wait, why does Major get a cookie when he’s here three minutes, and I don’t get one after three days?”

The cruel old wizard chortled. “As if you would ever save me a trip halfway across town! Ha! If you’d been in this ‘Major’s’ place, the most I ever would have found at that park would be ‘Stasis was here,’ etched out on the grass with the ashes of common decency and civilized thought.”

Stasis pouted. He wanted a cookie.

“Anyway…what was I talking about?” Star Swirl seemed to notice the envelope floating in front of his face. “Oh. Right. As I was saying, lad, I found this letter in your bags. Your teacher had some…interesting comments regarding your education that I think we need to talk about.”

Stasis frowned. “You looked through my stuff?”

The little changeling hadn’t really had stuff before. Well, not unless you counted the pile of odds and ends that he kept buried in his super-special secret spot by the riverbank. (There was no such thing as ‘petty’ theft when you were being watched all the time.)

Now that he had stuff, though, he found that he didn’t really like ponies nosing about in it without his permission. It wasn’t polite.

A bushy eyebrow was raised. “Your stuff? I think you’re confused, lad. You don’t have stuff. But I did look through my stuff, and what should I find but a letter from your teacher about her concern that maybe, just maybe, you can’t do multiplication. Is that true?”

“I can do it,” Stasis explained irritably. “I just don’t know how.”

Star rubbed his forehead with one hoof. “Okay, how about this.”

A piece of paper and a pencil floated out of the wizard’s cape and in front of Stasis. The little changeling had never been gladder that he could use magic; the last thing he wanted to do with anything that came out of the nooks and crannies of the old pony’s clothes was hold it in his mouth. Stasis knew enough about clothes to know that if you wanted to wash them, you had to take them off every once in a while.

Stasis bent down and carefully examined the squiggles. He then looked up at Star. The old unicorn rubbed harder.

“Please tell me you know how to add, Stasis. Please? Come on, lad. I need this.”

“Of course I can add!” Stasis spat back. He was a great adder! In the whole family, only Chigger was better, and that’s all Chigger could do. He couldn’t even put on a decent masque without help; every time he tried, he’d always forget to give his face eyes or a mouth or anything and would end up scaring the hatchlings half-to-death.

“Two plus nine.”

“Eleven!” Stasis said automatically.

“Thirteen plus fifty-eight.”

“…Seventy-one!”

“Three hundred and ninety-eight plus six hundred and fifty-two.”

That one took Stasis a minute. His brow furrowed while he worked it out.

“…One thousand…and fifty?”

Star snorted. “If you can add triple-digit numbers in your head, then why can’t you solve four plus five?” He gestured at the piece of paper.

“Well, how am I supposed to know it says four plus five if you don’t tell me?” Stasis explained to the foolish old pony. “We don’t have all this stuff where I live, like paper and pencils and things.” And they didn’t have money or schools either. If ponies got rid of those things then they wouldn’t have to know how to do multiplication either, and he bet their lives would be much easier.

“…Oh.” Star frowned. “Wait a second. Are you telling me you can’t read?”

“No, not really,” Stasis admitted freely. He didn’t like not knowing things, but he liked vexing the old pony even more.

Star stared at him. “Say something fancy for me.”

The little changeling thought for a minute before saying, “Thy beard is as luscious as thy countenance is puckered and thy manner, irascible.” That’s how Stasis was supposed to talk if he ever got invited to a pre-chaos fair.

“…Right. And you can’t recite the alphabet?”

“Alphabet?” Stasis asked quizzically. (He actually knew perfectly well what an alphabet was, but the look on Star’s face was priceless.)

“Stars have mercy….” The old pony closed his eyes and began rubbing his forehead again. Stasis just watched the wrinkles come and go, come and go, come and go….

“Alright,” Star said suddenly, startling the little changeling out of his reverie. “Okay. New plan, lad. You’re going to be homeschooled.”

“Huh?” Stasis queried.

Homeschooled? That might have appealed to him that morning, but now he had a new playground, a new companion, and a whole host of new enemies. He wasn’t sure he was willing to give all that up.

He was about to object when the old pony continued, “Aye, but don’t worry; you’ll still be going to regular school too.”

“Huh!” Stasis protested.

The old pony stroked his beard absently. “Aye, you’ll go to school in the morning, and then I’ll teach you reading, writing, and arithmetic in the evening. You’re a bright lad…you’ll be caught up to the other students before you know it.” Star Swirl sounded less like he was trying to convince Stasis, and more like he was trying to convince Star Swirl.

“That’s…but…I….” Stasis sputtered. This was quite possibly the worst plan that had ever come out of any pony’s head, even Star Swirl’s.

“School ends at noon,” the crazy old pony continued. “As long as you let me know where you’re going to be, you can stay out until…two in the afternoon should work. Then I’ll teach you until dinner, perhaps I’ll even show you a new spell afterwards, and after that you might have a little extra time until bed. Oh, and you’ll also need to study most of Saturday…and then you can have Sundays off,” Star finished.

Stasis had a lingering suspicion that the old pony had made all that stuff up on the spot. Rather than immediately point out the critical flaw in Star’s plan – namely, that it was stupid – Stasis took a moment to try to think of any words in Equestrian or the old tongue that adequately encompassed the depths and tone of his feelings towards this new proposal. A special plan like this deserved special words indeed.

Star Swirl seemed to note his expression, however, and nodded. “Aye, lad, it sucks; it truly does. I’m eighty-two years old and still the best magician that this country’s got; I have better things to do than try to give some little rascal a decent education. But the only other option is to put you back in the first grade where you belong, where the only thing you have to look forward to is watching kids suck their hooves and show you their boogers.”

He tapped his chin thoughtfully. “Come to think of it…it would keep you out of my beard, and that’s pretty much the main advantage of public schools these days, if you ask me. Think of all the work I could get done if I didn’t have you around to keep out of mischief.” The old pony gave Stasis a wry look. “What do you say, lad? Want to march up through school one grade at a time, like all the other colts your age?”

Stasis snorted contemptuously. Star Swirl had better things to do than teach Stasis? And what was that? Was he going to stand about on the lawn all day, letting beard and grass flow and grow together into one luscious, unruly mass? Or perhaps he would spend his last days practicing his multiplication, resting easy in the knowledge that if there was ever an orchard with apples that needed counting, he would be the one they called?

No, no, he knew what the old pony would do: the pony would go looking for Stasis, that’s what. Frankly, Stasis wasn’t sure what Star had done before he had a little changeling around to take care of. Maybe he just wasn’t good at anything else these days, being so old and all.

Stasis, now. There were all kinds of things Stasis could do. He could play on the slide, or the roundabout, or maybe even the swings again…he could go find the fillies in the park and play the rope-jumping game, he could eat new things at the pastry store, or he could even go learn how bricks are made so that he could add an up-scale housing district to Stasisgrad. The possibilities were limited only by his imagination, and Stasis had a better imagination than any pony.

On the other hoof, the little changeling wasn’t like every other colt his age, and he didn’t want things to be any easier on Star Swirl than they had to be. Multiplication seemed a bit useless, but maybe if he learned to read, he could take some of the old wizard’s books back with him to the forest? Books on history, maybe. A book or two on science, but not flower-science. And as many books on black magic as he could lay his hooves on; that way, he could just raise any of his siblings who had died back to life. Mother would like that.

Stasis was still contemplating this when the old pony said, “I tell you what. Come along downstairs with me, and I’ll teach you a little about reading before dinner. You can decide what you want to do after that.” Star turned about and went back downstairs, the little changeling following a few moments later.

The elderly unicorn stopped in front of one of the bookshelves and, squinting slightly, began looking at them each in turn. As he searched, he said, “Normally, a teacher’d start you off with…I don’t know…Run, Blaze, Run, or something like that. I figure that’s about when most kids start to think that reading is boring.”

The old pony snorted, which blew up a small puff of dust and caused him to sneeze. Wiping his nose with one hoof, Star continued, “Anyway…what was I saying? Oh, right. Well, if you want to teach yourself how to read, lad, you’re more than welcome to go to the library and take out all the little kid’s books you want…but if I’m going to do it, we’re going to skip the boring part and get straight to the fun. Trouble is, I haven’t referenced this book in such a long time, I can’t recall where on this blasted bookshelf I put it….”

“I thought you would sooner mislay your own tail than one of your precious books,” Stasis reminded the absent-minded old geezer helpfully.

Star paused in his quest long enough to give the little changeling a baleful look. “You know, I’m beginning to think that the first grade may be a bit too advanced for you, lad. Maybe I should send you to preschool instead, where you can learn all about wooden blocks, story-time, and the wisdom of using my own words against me.”

Stasis actually thought story-time sounded quite intriguing, but since it was obviously supposed to be a little-kid’s concept, he didn’t say anything.

Scanning the shelves again, the old pony continued, “Anyway, I didn’t mislay it, lad. I laid it exactly where it’s supposed to go. I just forgot where that is.”

Something about that statement seemed suspect to Stasis. Before he could figure out what it was, though, Star Swirl let out an ‘Aha!’ and the biggest book Stasis had ever seen – which wasn’t saying much, but still, it was a really big book – was wrapped in blue light and levitated off of the lowest shelf.

In fact, ‘book’ didn’t really seem like the right word. ‘Tome’ seemed more appropriate; it had to have weighed at least as much as Stasis himself. Star Swirl set the book down on a rare empty spot on one of the wooden tables like it was his hatchling instead of his hardcover.

“Fang’s Physiologus,” the old pony said with an air of reverence that the little changeling hadn’t thought him capable of. “A masterpiece.” Star sighed with pleasure. “If it weren’t already written, I think I’d have to write it myself, it’s just so good.”

It was an impressive book, but Stasis didn’t think the old pony was talking about its size. “What’s so good about it?” he asked cautiously. If a pony like Star Swirl thought it was exciting, its boringness was probably of dangerous proportions.

“Come and take a look, lad,” Star said, patting a spot on the bench in front of the book. “It won’t bite. Although…if head, hoof, or hide of you should touch this book….” The old wizard smiled. “I will.”

Stasis did not feel reassured. He carefully rested his hindquarters on the bench and stared down at the massive volume. It appeared even older than most of the other books in Star Swirl’s house, its hard outer cover composed of what looked and smelled like manticore skin that had been dyed a deep black and stretched across some hard surface, probably wood. Words – Stasis could not justly call them squiggles – were emblazoned across the front in golden, flowing script.

“What does it say?” Stasis asking, pointing at the cover, very careful that neither head, nor hoof, nor hide of him should touch the book. Star Swirl wasn’t one of those old ponies who had lost all their teeth, unfortunately.

The toothed pony seemed pleased by the question. “Well, normally the cover of the book is the title. This is a very, very, very old book though, and the front just says, So Saith Fang, Son of Light, Physiologus of Life’s Great Work and Herald of the Threads of Fate.”

“Huh?” Stasis asked.

Star Swirl shrugged. “Everypony just calls it the Physiologus. Keeps life easy.”

“But what does all that stuff mean?” Stasis asked again.

“It means that Fang wrote it, and the rest is just a very cryptic description of who he considers himself to be. A ‘physiologus’ is sort of like a scientist of the old days; a herald is someone who proclaims something; ‘life’s great work’ presumably refers to every living thing in the world; ‘son of light’ is a reference either to his father’s name or to some religious or philosophical concept; and ‘herald of the threads of fate’ probably means that he thinks himself something of a fortune-teller, astrologer, or historian. And just like how many of the books back in those days didn’t really have formal titles, many of the writers would treat the forces of nature as people, similar to how poets nowadays talk as if Celestia is the sun itself, or the moon and Luna are the same thing.”

The old pony smiled. “Actually, now that I think about, I’ve got a book called On the Meaning of the Titular Inscription on the Cover of the Magnum Opus Colloquially Referred to as the ‘Physiologus’ that I can let you read later, once you learn how.” He raised a bushy eyebrow challengingly. “Any more questions, lad?”

Stasis tried to process all this information, but his brain felt…constipated. Mother was ancient and knew all kinds of things; maybe he could ask her about some of this when he got back.

“So…it is worth a lot of money?” he finally asked. His siblings had explained to him that some things were worth a lot new and then less when they got old, while other things were worth little new and then a lot when they got old. Those were called ‘antiques.’ He wondered if the book was an antique.

Star nodded. “More than the rest of my collection combined, lad, and some of these books I have are worth more than this house. That’s why I thought you were a thief when you first showed up; we don’t have very many thieves around here, but even a good pony can be tempted to dishonesty if the reward is great enough.”

Stasis tucked this information away for later.

The old pony continued, “The very first edition of the Physiologus was actually made in prehistoric times, not long after the three tribes came down from the far north and first founded Equestria. Supposedly Fang himself spent decades writing each book out by claw and giving them as gifts to the various peoples of the world. Unfortunately, most of them had no written language yet…and he had apparently decided that binding the books in decorative amalgams of each of the skins of the world’s speaking races was somehow a good idea. The book never really took off, and he was a bit miffed at the time.

“The second edition, on the other hoof, wasn’t made until shortly after the Reign of Chaos, when ponies had finally begun making books and keeping records again. Fang updated it significantly, reflecting the status of the world as it was at that point; he even thought to use animal skin, though given that the majority of the sapient races are herbivores, it still wasn’t very popular. Rumor even has it that the gryphons ate their copies.” Star shook his head with disgust. “Ignorant brutes.”

“So this is a second edition?” Stasis asked, interested in what lecturer-Star Swirl was saying despite himself.

The old wizard nodded. “Aye, lad. An original second edition, which is why it’s worth so darn much. Even the copies cost more than most ponies could hope to ever afford; there’s only a few of either left in the world today, and most of them are holed up in the libraries of noble houses, admired but never read.” Star Swirl snorted contemptuously.

“As for the first edition, there were no copies ever made, and the last of the first editions perished in a fire centuries ago.” Star shuddered, as if he could feel the flames himself. “What a loss! All we have now are a few odd fragments and passing references from contemporaries, just enough to let us know that the first second edition was very different from the second.”

The old bibliophile closed his eyes and sighed. “If I could just lay my hooves on a first edition…oh, how I would read that book…aye…I would read the heck out of that thing….”

Stasis was getting creeped out. He quickly asked, “What is Fang, anyway? Is he a changeling?” Fang must be really, really old, and since none of the three living gods Stasis knew about were named Fang, then maybe he was a prince. Stasis liked the idea of a prince writing books; all the ones he knew about just lounged around and had children most of the time.

“Hmm?” Star blinked, as if Stasis had woken him from a dream. “Oh. I suppose I forgot to mention that, didn’t I? Well, Fang’s a dragon, lad. One of the oldest. I was just wondering if he had any more first editions lying around in his lair somewhere…I’d ask him myself, but no one’s seen him leave his home in the Gloaming for ages. Literally.”

Stasis drew back from the book slightly. Even though he knew it couldn’t hurt him, he wasn’t sure he wanted to have anything to do with a dragon. They were terrible, dangerous creatures; one had tried to murder Father once, hundreds of years before Stasis hatched. It had hunted Father for many days and nights, burning down huge swathes of the forest and herding him away from his wives, who had no idea that their mate was in dire peril. By covering himself in mud, Father had managed to hide himself from the dragon’s sight, smell, and heat-sense long enough to ambush and kill it…but not before it ate both his hind legs and burnt his wings to a crisp. All his wives and children, Mother included, had had to leave their homes and rally around to protect him for months until everything grew back.

“Don’t worry, lad. The book itself is harmless. It’s –“

“Star Swirl?”

“Aye, lad?”

“What’s the book actually about?”

The bearded old pony stared him for a few moments. “Oh. Right,” he finally said, clearing his throat. “Let’s get to it, then.” The book shone blue, and the cover lifted.

Stasis had seen pony art before, bits and pieces of paintings and sculptures that changelings brought back to the family as collector’s items, or to give to each other or Mother as gifts. But he had never seen anything like this.

The first page was a single image, a single scene encompassing every speaking creature Stasis had ever seen or even heard of, including sheep, goats, and donkeys; mules, cows, and buffalo; diamond dogs, horses, and minotaurs. Each appeared engaged in some kind of activity that uniquely exemplified that race’s attitude and culture…or at least what their attitude and culture must have been centuries ago, when the book was made.

There were zebras, adorned with golden jewelry and varicolored paint, chanting incantations and hurling potions at an approaching swarm of parasprites that were devouring their crops and fields. There were gryphonic berserkers, faces plucked and strange shapes and symbols scarred upon their skin, their eyes red with rage as they tore at each other’s throats with sharpened beaks and rent each other’s wings with steel-sheathed claws. There was even a stone statue of a draconequus, standing in the midst of the battles and carnage of the other races, his expression that of joy and laughter. Discord, petrified god of chaos, looking not at all upset that his race was long dead and his Reign finally ended.

Stasis’ eyes, though, were soon drawn to the top of the page. In the sky, far above the squabbles and troubles of the other species, a lone dragon and changeling were locked in battle. The drake was beautiful, scales of silver and eyes of gold, emerald flame spilling from the great lizard’s throat and washing over his foe like a tide.

But it was the changeling who drew Stasis’ gaze. The changeling’s eyes shone like sunflowers; upon his back were wings, long and glistening iridescent in the cloudless sky; a twisted horn jutted proudly from his brow; and teal locks cascaded down his head and face and neck, blowing back slightly under the force of the dragonsbreath. Even as fire swathed his body below the neck, his face bore the same look Celestia had had: determination. Strength. And a cold fury that was terrible to behold. The creature radiated a nobility and eternality such as Stasis had never seen, and it was for the dragon he feared, not the prince.

Stasis pointed at the changeling. “Who’s that?” he asked. He had never met any other prince except for Father, but if a creature like this still lived, surely Stasis would have heard of him.

Star shrugged. “I don’t think it’s supposed to be anyling, lad. According to the Physiologus, changelings and dragons have hated each other since prehistoric times. I think it’s just supposed to be an archetype for all changelings, same as the dragon.”

Stasis continued to stare at the other prince. This was supposed to be someling; he was sure of it. If he was still alive, he would be of the eldest fathers. If Stasis ever got to meet any of them, he would be sure to look for the one from this painting.

After a few quiet minutes, Stasis noticed something.

“Where are the ponies?” he asked.

Star snorted and pointed at the bottom right corner of the picture. Stasis saw that there were a few ponies standing about, nibbling grass serenely, and a familiar (but younger) white alicorn watched them doing so with a big, slightly idiotic grin on her face. A smaller, dark blue alicorn with an impassive expression stood aloof to the side, as if she had better things to do. Stasis couldn’t blame her.

“Fang,” Star said, “did all of the illustrations in his book himself, of course. He’s…not particularly fond of ponies.” He shrugged. “In case you couldn’t tell.”

Stasis decided that Fang was a rather clever dragon, as far as dragons go.

“What do you think, lad?” the old wizard asked.

Stasis pondered the question carefully. “This,” he declared with finality, “is a good picture.”

Star nodded solemnly. “Aye, lad. That it is. And do you know what page that is, lad?”

“What page is it?” Stasis asked expectantly.

“That,” Star said, “is page one.”

Stasis blinked. “How many pages are there?”

“Hundreds, lad. Hundreds. Many of them with pictures just like this one.”

Star began looking about the room, as if somepony might be hiding in the dark corners or under one of the benches. And as if he could actually see them if they were.

“To tell you the truth, lad….” Star said in a hushed voice. “I’ve always had a thing for books with pictures.”

Stasis nodded with understanding. He had never read a book, but if he had, it would definitely have been a book with pictures.

“Here, let me show you something else, lad. Since you were so interested in the changeling on the first page….”
With a gentle blue light, the unicorn slowly turned the pages to a section farther in. There, Stasis saw a colored, full-page diagram of an adult changeling prince, done in wondrous detail. The prince appeared as if cut in half, with elegant squiggles above dark lines that pointed to different organs and parts of the body. Stasis analyzed it carefully, until he realized what the dragon must have done to get such detailed knowledge of a changeling prince’s anatomy; then he drew back slightly. But only slightly.

“And this,” the old pony said, pointing at the opposite page, which was crammed full of more looping, flowing squiggles interspersed with the occasional smaller, simpler diagram, “is the beginning of what, after all these many centuries, is still the longest, most detailed and – as far as I can tell – accurate depiction of changelings in the world. It covers changeling mythology, history, biology…there’s sections on eating habits, communal organization, and migrational patterns…pretty much anything you can think of. Other parts of the book have similar information on every speaking creature that walks the earth.”

Star Swirl tapped the book. Well, he almost tapped it, his hoof stopping just short of actually touching the precious tome.

“And do you know what this is, lad?”

“A book?” Stasis conjectured.

“Book one, lad. Book one.” The old pony gestured at the surrounding room. “And here are dozens more. The library has them in the hundreds. The world has tens of thousands of books, lad, and you can read every. Single. One of them.” He paused and looked at the little changeling. “All you have to do is learn twenty-six little letters and how they go together.”

It seemed like, if reading were really as much fun as Star Swirl was making it out to be, everypony would be doing it all the time. Nopony would ever eat or play or sleep or anything, because they’d be too busy reading.

…Of course, ponies were stupid. They probably didn’t know what they had. Even his siblings…they were far smarter than ponies, for sure, but which of them knew the things in these books? Did even Mother? If Stasis could read, pretty soon he would know all there was to know.

He liked the thought of that. He liked it a lot.

Stasis thought. And thought. And thought.

“So….” He finally began, trying to keep his tone nonchalant. “If I let you teach me how to read during the evenings…then I’ll be able to understand what this book says without any help? And I can read anything I want, anytime I want?”

Star Swirl the Bearded smiled.

Inflection

Stasis bopped the big orange colt on the back of the head.

“Ow!” Major rubbed at the wound and shot Stasis a confused look. “What was that for? Was there a bug on me or something?”

“No, I hit you because you’re being recalcitrant,” Stasis explained.

“Huh?”

Stasis shook his hoof reproachfully in the pony’s face. “You haven’t said a word to me all day!” exclaimed the little changeling. “What’s wrong with you? Normally you talk too much, but now you talk too little. I don’t like it.”

“Well, I just don’t feel like talking right now,” Major said defensively.

“Yes, you do,” said the little mildly-psychic changeling. “But you’re not doing it. What’s wrong with you? Are you sick?” He supposed he couldn’t really blame the pony for being sick, but he wanted to anyway.

“No….” said Major shiftily.

“If you don’t start talking to me right now, I’m going to have to hit you again,” Stasis warned.

Major looked away. “Well…I’m not really supposed to talk to you anymore. I don’t even know if we can be friends or play together or anything.”

“What!” Stasis shouted. “What are you talking about?”

Major seemed to summon his courage. “Well, remember how yesterday you said all those things about earth ponies and then beat up Pierce?”

Stasis frowned. “Yeah? What about it?” That was ancient history. He’d have thought everypony would be over that by now.

“Well, I’m an earth pony too, and it kind of hurt my feelings,” explained Major.

Stasis looked his companion up and down. It was true; Major was an earth pony. Stasis hadn’t really given it a lot of thought at the time. He imagined living without magic or flight must be slightly better than being dead.

“Major,” he began carefully, “I only meant those things to hurt Pierce’s feelings, not yours. The fact that you’re also an earth pony is just a coincidence. You could just as easily have been a pegasus or a unicorn.” He wasn’t actually sure if that was true; the whole three-races-in-one thing had always been something of a mystery to him. But it would make Major feel better.

“It still hurt my feelings,” Major posited stubbornly.

Stasis thought for a few moments, and then gave a sly smile. “Well…aren’t friends supposed to forgive each other?” he asked. He was pretty sure he had heard that somewhere, and Major obviously thought they were friends.

“Um…yeah, I guess that’s true,” said Major, obviously deep in thought. “But aren’t you supposed to say you’re sorry first?”

Stasis shrugged. “Who can say? The ways of friendship are an enigma wrapped in mysteries stuffed inside a riddle or something. Let’s go play on the swings now.”

Major shook his head. “Uh-uh. I was telling my dad about what you did, and he said that I shouldn’t play with anypony who’s a bad influence. He also said that anypony who beats up other ponies for fun isn’t a good influence. Since you beat up Pierce yesterday, that must mean that you’re a bad influence, and since you’re a bad influence, that means that I shouldn’t play with you,” Major declared with sudden aplomb.

Stasis narrowed his eyes, but no matter how he poked at it with his mind, Major’s logic was undeniable. He would have to be crafty.

“You know, you shouldn’t listen to everything ponies tell you, Major. Sometimes you have to think for yourself. I mean, if your dad told you to jump off a bridge, would you do it?” quizzed the little changeling craftily.

“Well…I don’t…uh….”

Stasis leaned forward, sensing that victory was within his grasp.

Major’s eyes shifted about. “I…I…I love my dad!” the orange pony declared suddenly, as if that was any answer. Stasis could tell it was true; Major was feeling very lovey right then.

The little changeling frowned. “Well, I don’t love your dad, and I say that you’re being very selfish.”

“Huh?” questioned Major, looking quite concerned.

“Yeah,” Stasis nodded, “you’re being very selfish, only thinking of what my being a bad influence does to you. I mean, what about me? I like being a bad influence. I want to be bad, and it’s wrong of you to try to pressure me otherwise,” Stasis finished.

Major blinked. “Um…well, all I know is that I shouldn’t be your friend because my dad said so.”

This was not working. Stasis pondered the problem for a few more moments.

“So…how about if I promise to be a less bad influence in the future?” Stasis offered. The best thing about the future, as far as he was concerned, was that it was always in the future and never in the now.

Major tapped his chin. “I guess that’s alright.”

Stasis smiled.

“But only if you say you’re sorry to Pierce first.”

Stasis unsmiled. “What? Why?”

“Because it’ll make him feel better,” Major pointed out.

Stasis rolled his eyes. He decided to explain things very slowly so that Major’s simple pony mind could understand.

“Major, if I wanted Pierce to feel better, would I really have said all those mean things to him yesterday and then beat him up?” he asked. “I mean, does that really make any sense?”

“My dad says –“

Stasis threw his forehooves in the air in exasperation. “I don’t care what your dad says. All your dad ever does is say things that I don’t care about.”

Major looked shocked for a few moments, then angry.

“You shouldn’t say things like that about other ponies’ dads!” he exclaimed with such force that Stasis took a step back.

“I’m going to find somepony else to play with who’s nicer than you,” said the orange colt, turning around and starting to walk away.

“Wait!” Stasis said quickly. “Let’s talk about this. We can work something out.”

But Major kept walking. Stasis looked about himself desperately, finally spotting the blue earth pony over by the slides, talking with a filly. The little changeling dashed across the playground, shoving aside any ungulates unfortunate enough to be in his way.

“Pierce!” he shouted, coming to an abrupt halt a few paces from the large colt.

As Pierce’ eyes met his, the pony’s face – looking positively animated at the moment – immediately resuming its slack, wary look from the day before.

“Can I help you?” he asked sharply.

“Quick. You’ve got to forgive me,” Stasis explained.

Pierce frowned. “For what? Your little racist diatribe from yesterday?”

“Yeah,” Stasis replied. “And for beating you senseless in front of all your friends with your own Frisbee. And for being smarter, faster, and better than you. And for…well, pretty much anything else you can think of. But you’ve got to do it quick, before Major starts playing with somepony else.”

Pierce, feeling angry to the little changeling, opened his mouth to speak but was cut off by a rough, feminine voice.

“Is this the colt you were going on about?” asked the filly. About the same size as Pierce, she was clearly older, nearly an adult; a pegasus, her coat was a deep, blood red, her main and tail orange with streaks of white.

Pierce shifted, clearly uncomfortable. “Yes, he is.”

The filly burst out laughing, hanging her foreleg around Pierce’s neck comradely. “You had your tail kicked…by a six year old! Oh, Celestia! How is that even possible?” she chortled.

“Maybe seven,” Stasis pointed out.

“He’s Star Swirl’s student, Crimson,” Pierce said, sounding defensive. “His magic is very strong. And he’s much…sprightlier, than he looks.” He shrugged. “I couldn’t catch him.”

“Hey! Are you going to forgive me or not?” asked Stasis impatiently. If the answer was ‘no,’ he wasn’t sure what else there was to do except beat Pierce up again.

“Oh, but he’s so adorable!” The red pegasus exclaimed, picking Stasis up suddenly. Stasis looked at Pierce with wide eyes, silently asking if this was normal behavior, and if he should be trying to escape or else just let her have her way with him.

“Careful. He bites,” Pierce said with a slight smile in his voice. Silent questions were apparently not as effective as they were made out to be, or else Pierce was just as big a jerk as Star Swirl.

“Aw. How you can be mad at a face like this?” Crimson said, pointing Stasis at the blue colt and making a pouting face of her own.

Pierce’s lips pressed tightly together as he looked back and forth between the bewildered little changeling and the pouting pegasus for a few moments before he sighed.

“Fine. I forgive you, Stasis. Celestia knows you need it.”

“I knew you had it in you, big boy,” Crimson said with smile.

Still holding him under his forelegs, the filly turned Stasis around so that their muzzles were a bare inch apart. Her amethyst eyes seemed huge and hypnotic, and Stasis was reminded of a snake and a bird. This was an analogy he often associated with ponies, except this time the pony was the snake and he was the bird.

“Hey there, little guy. Where are you from, anyway? Is it far from here?”

Stasis paddled his hind legs desperately in the air for a few moments before he relented and said, “Um…yeah, it’s pretty far.”

“Hoofington? Everfree City? I was born in Cloudsdale, but I’ve got a feeling you’re not from there,” she said with a grin that suggested it should be perfectly obvious to him why he couldn’t be from ‘Cloudsdale.’

“It’s…um…just a little place in the forest. Maybe it doesn’t have a name?” Did places always have names? He was pretty sure his home was actually known as the Forgotten Forest, since those who entered it were usually soon forgotten. He decided to keep that to himself, though.

The blue pony frowned. “You don’t know? How can you not know the name of your own home?”

The filly rolled her eyes. “Oh, come on, Pierce. He’s just a little kid.” Staring at Stasis again, she said, “So where are your parents? Are they friends of Star Swirl?”

“No, I don’t think he has any friends,” said Stasis. “My family was just visiting Trottingham, and I performed some magic, and Star Swirl was so impressed that he decided to let me stay with him for a while.” Absent a few details, that was pretty much the truth.

“But why were you and your family visiting Trottingham in the first place?” asked Pierce suddenly. “Didn’t you say that you live far away? And where are your parents now? Did they return home without you? And what magic did you ‘perform’ that convinced the most famous wizard alive to take you on as his protégé? You do know that even though he’s in his eighties, he’s never had a student of any kind? Is it just that you’re so gifted with magic, or is it something else?”

Stasis stared at his inquisitor for a few moments. Then he looked at his captor, who vaguely reminded him of a hawk eyeing her prey.

“…I have to pee.”

He scarcely had the last syllable out when Crimson set him down, nearly dropping him, and took a step back, as if afraid his bladder might fail at any moment. The moment his hooves hit the dirt the little changeling was off, galloping in the direction in which he had last seen Major. Behind him, he thought he could hear the red pegasus berating her companion for being ‘paranoid.’

The orange colt, as it turned out, was just sitting there and watching Stasis approach with a huge grin on his face. Stasis hid behind him.

Craning his neck around, Major asked, “Hey, how did it go? You were over there for a really long time.”

The little changeling peeked around the bigger colt. Crimson appeared to already be over her ire and was giving Pierce a playful noogie, which he did nothing to resist.

“Next time….” Stasis began. “Next time, Major? You go apologize, while I stay here and watch.”

Major switched to looking over his other shoulder, still trying to get a good look at the little changeling, who was a very good hider. “Hey, did he forgive you? Did you get to talk to Crimson?”

“Yeah, I made him forgive me,” Stasis said. “And who is that crazy red pegasus, anyway? Isn’t she too old to be here in school? Is she really stupid?” That would explain things, he supposed.

“No!” Major exclaimed happily. “She’s a student at the high school a few blocks away, and she’s really nice. Her lunch break is at the same time as our recess, so she flies over here sometimes to talk to Pierce.”

“She’s crazy,” Stasis asserted again. “And why does she want to see Pierce anyway? Are they friends?” Beyond the fact that nopony in their right mind would want to be friends with Pierce, the two ponies seemed far too different to be so close.

Major nodded. “Yeah, she’s his fillyfriend. All the older colts are really jealous; he’s the only guy here who has a fillyfriend in high school.”

“She’s his what?” asked Stasis.

“His fillyfriend! Do you know what that is, Stasis? You don’t know what stuff is sometimes, but I can explain it to you,” Major offered helpfully.

“No, I know what that is,” Stasis replied. Of course he knew what a fillyfriend was; it just took him a second to remember, is all. The strange courtship rituals of ponies was an area of great interest to the changelings, given how much love was typically involved. After all, it was quite a task to feed hundreds of changelings packed into a small area, and the energy siphoned from ponies often meant the difference between hunger and starvation.

As far as Stasis could make out, ponies would shop around for the best mate they could, much as one might do for doughnuts, except that they only had enough bits to buy just the one. They often made the decision based on strange criteria, such as appearance or flattering words. This gave a great advantage to changelings, who could be as beautiful as they wished and whose culture put a great emphasis on the capacity for proper speech; Stasis himself was sure he could charm a filly into his forelegs in a heartbeat, if he ever had a mind to do such a thing.

Although they rarely discussed it, Stasis had noticed that his siblings had strange rituals of their own, although much calmer and less celebrated than the emotional tempest that ponies experienced. Males and females would begin helping each other with their duties, talking to each other when they were resting, sharing energy with each other. Being unable to bear children, however, noling paid such relationships much attention. Or if they did, they didn’t discuss with Stasis. He probably wouldn’t have been very interested anyway.

“Oh, good,” Major said suddenly, his face lighting up. “Hey, since you’re not a bad influence anymore, maybe we can go say hi to Abra! Just make sure not to say that anything’s ‘stupid’ this time, though. I don’t think she liked that.”

“What’s wrong with ‘stupid’?” Stasis demanded. As far as he was concerned, it was the perfect epithet: everyone knew what it meant, and nobody liked it.

“Um…hey! There she is!” Major said, galloping off towards the brown filly. Stasis didn’t join him right away, instead trying to think of what things he could say to the pony that would really rile her up. The orange colt came galloping back before he could finish, however.

“Hey, do you want to play on the swings again?” asked Major.

Stasis nodded fervently. “Yeah, I’d….” He paused. “Wait. What did she say?”

Major blinked. “Huh?”

“What. Did. Abra. Say?” Stasis asked again irritably.

Major blinked. “Oh. She said that she didn’t want to play right now. I think that maybe she’s busy reading that book,” Major said, pointing at the aforementioned text. “I’ll try asking her again tomorrow.”

Stasis frowned. “Do you ask her every day, Major?”

Major seemed to think about that for a minute. “Well, not really. I was home sick this one time, and there’s no school on the weekends. Did you know that there’s no school on the weekends, Stasis?”

“Does she ever play with you?” Stasis asked.

Major shook his head. “Not yet. That’s why I always remember to ask,” he explained. “If she ever wants to play, I’ll be ready.”

Stasis thought about this for a few moments, but had a hard time wrapping his head around the pony-logic. Finally, he just shrugged. He figured that if he spent much more time with the ponies, he would end up doing an awful lot of shrugging and eye-rolling.

Looking back over at the pair of mismatched ponies – Crimson had one wing draped over Pierce as she talked about something, while he seemed to be doing his best imitation of a mildly content statue – Stasis still felt troubled.

“Major?”

“Yeah?” The orange pony turned completely around and looked at him with a concerned expression.

Stasis fidgeted. “You don’t think that I’m…adorable, do you?”

Major tapped his chin and analyzed the little changeling carefully from top to bottom. Finally, speaking in a most compassionate tone, the orange pony said, “Well…maybe just a little. It’s okay though, Stasis,” he added quickly. “Girls like that kind of thing. I think….”

Stasis muttered a few mild curses under his breath. He didn’t want girls; he wanted to be horrible, not huggable. He should have picked an uglier masque while he had the chance.

“Come on, Major,” he said suddenly, stomping towards the swings. “You’re pushing.”

* * *

A few hours later, pony and changeling found themselves on the lawn in front of the school, Celestia’s sun blazing proudly overhead whilst they contemplated their next move. Alas, but this time it was not freedom that stretched forward temporally in front of them, but a path ending abruptly at the cold gates of knowledge and hard work.

It was an odd phenomenon, thought Stasis, how much he detested having to do work in the future, yet enjoyed the fruits of such labor done in the past. It was as if future Stasis were a tyrant, cracking the whip across the back of poor past Stasis, who had to slave away to ensure future Stasis’ high station.

A more appealing perspective, decided the little changeling, was to imagine past Stasis a chump and ignoramus, and it was present Stasis’ job – present Stasis being the only one who really mattered – to claw and scratch his way over the shoulders of all the past Stasises to take his rightful place as the king of all the Stasises, most-future Stasis.

Still, that was an awful lot of past Stasises to claw and scratch over. Or was it future Stasises? It was all very confusing for the little changeling.

“Stasis? Did you hear what I said?” called out a familiar voice.

“No, I wasn’t really listening,” Stasis admitted. “Did you know that from now on, I have to be homeschooled with Star Swirl from two o’clock to dinnertime nearly every single day?”

“Wow! That’s a lot of school!” Major exclaimed.

Stasis nodded sadly. “I want to know everything there is to know, though, and I can’t think of a better way to go about learning it than through hard work.”

“I wish I got to be homeschooled by Star Swirl,” mused the orange pony. “He’s one of the smartest ponies ever, and I have all types of trouble with homework. My dad helps me a lot when he’s not busy, but he’s busy a lot with his job and things like that. Mom helps too, but she gets frustrated when I can’t understand things.”

Stasis wasn’t nearly as interested in Major’s woes as he was in his own. He couldn’t really think of anything he wanted to do for the next two hours, except maybe get a doughnut from the pastry store and then keep complaining to Major.

“She’s been talking about hiring a tutor for a while, but Dad works as a clerk at town hall and doesn’t make a whole lot of money, and she hasn’t found anypony yet who we can afford. I try pretty hard; I really don’t want to get held back a grade, especially since I know a lot of ponies in this class, like you and Abra.”

“Huh?” Stasis asked, his interest suddenly piqued. “What did you say?”

“I said that I don’t want to get held back –“

“No, the other thing,” Stasis interrupted. “Hiring a tutor means paying them money, right? Real money?”

Major nodded. “I don’t know how much, though. I think Mom said she was going to ‘negotiate.’”

“Bwahahahaha,” Stasis muttered quietly to himself. Louder, he asked, “Major, where do you live?”

* * *

“You did what?” exclaimed the old pony.

“I got hired as Major’s tutor!” Stasis shouted once more, practically prancing in the middle of the kitchen floor. “His mother put up a real fight at first, but I kept at her, and kept at her, wearing her down bit by bit until I was ready for the final blow.” Stasis illustrated the verbal battle with violent chopping motions.

“Once I pointed out that we’ll be studying at your house and can just ask you about anything I don’t know, she went down like a rotten old tree in a storm! I’ve never seen a mare collapse so completely! Bwahahahahaha!”

“You’ll be studying where?”

“She offered ten bits a week, but my negotiating abilities are unparalleled,” Stasis continued. “Now I’m going to get twenty bits a week that I can spend on anything I want! Do you know how many doughnuts I can buy with twenty bits? Bwahahahahaha! Cackle with me, Major! Bwahahahahahahaha!”

“Bwa-ha-ha?” cackled the orange earth pony hesitantly, who was still standing in the doorway to the kitchen and staring at the bell-bedecked wizard with wide eyes.

“You’ll get better with practice,” Stasis promised his companion, feeling magnanimous.

Star Swirl shook his head, beard-tip sweeping the floor with the motion. “You’re out of your blooming mind, lad. What do you think this is, a nursery? You think I have time to teach every ragamuffin who walks in off the street?”

Stasis ignored the recalcitrant old pony. Images of bathing in his vast sea of bits began to play through his mind. Stasisgrad, here I come.

“It’s okay, Mr. Swirl,” said Major quietly. “You don’t have to teach me anything if you don’t want to. I know that you must be really busy, being so famous and all.”

Unless I just decide to blow all the money at the pastry shop instead. Bwahahahahaha!

Star looked hesitant. “Well, I….”

“Oh, don’t be silly,” chided Stasis. “He doesn’t have anything better to do.”

Star Swirl shot him a dirty look. “You be quiet, lad. Nopony asked your opinion on the matter. And for Celestia’s sake, stop bouncing around like a maniac; you’re liable to wake the dead with all that racket.”

Stasis stopped. When a powerful wizard talked about waking the dead, he listened.

The old pony walked up to the orange one and looked him over critically, his expression inscrutable. Major just stared at the ground and scratched his hoof absently against the rickety floor.

After a few moments, the old pony said, “So…you’re Stasis’ friend, eh?”

Major nodded.

Stasis giggled. “Friends? Ha! As if I needed friends.”

“Huh?” asked the orange colt.

Star Swirl snorted. “Oh, don’t listen to him, lad. The boy wouldn’t know a friend if you came up and bit him in the arse.”

Major just looked more confused.

The old pony sighed. “I don’t like being pushed into things…but you look like a good lad. Certainly better than this other one I’ve got. I suppose you can stay here and study with Stasis, but only if you promise to keep him out of trouble.”

Even Major’s eyes seemed to smile as he said, “I promise!”

“He can try,” scoffed the little changeling.

Star Swirl sighed again. “I think I’ve put on four years just in the four days you’ve been with me, lad. Why don’t the two of you set up your stuff on the kitchen table.”

* * *

Stasis snuggled in under the covers. They were still far too soft for his taste…but being under them, in his bed, in his house still brought a warm, cozy feeling to him that he had never experienced back home. At least, not for a long, long time.

Things had been different when he was a hatchling. He could faintly remember sleeping curled up next to Mother herself, huddled as close as he could to her living warmth, lulled to sleep by her slow heartbeat. Now…now, he was expected to find his own place to sleep. Another preparation for the life that lay before him.

Long nights in the forest came to mind, nights when the icy winds rustled through the trees as he tried to find a place to sleep, but every overhang, hollow, and burrow was filled with blue eyes that turned him away. Not that he would have wanted to share, of course; he was a prince, and wouldn’t go begging. Still, the way his watchers simply watched without lifting a hoof to help left him as angry now as it had then.

“You should not wait until night has fallen to seek out shelter,” they would say in the old tongue. “When you are on your own, there will be no one to find shelter for you, no one to make it. You must face the consequences of your own laziness. So says Mother, and so say we.”

His lip would always curl when they spoke to him like that, in the old tongue, mimicking Mother’s antiquated mode. As if they could somehow copy her authority by copying her speech. Mother was thousands of years old, and they were just hatchlings compared to her. And one day, compared to him as well. They thought they could castigate him, thought that they could reform him, but who were they?

As he stroked the blanket, he thought it much superior to the rotten leaves and moss that he had used as a covering on those nights. He had learned to seek out shelter while it was still available, even carving out a little burrow of his own and making other younglings who slept in it wish they hadn’t. But he had also developed a contempt for those of his siblings who were tasked with developing his character. He would be no better behaved and more responsible a changeling than he wanted to be.

Which is to say, no more than he had to be.

“Are you ready, lad?” called the old pony. Stasis blinked, his concentration broken.

Turning to Star Swirl, Stasis nodded quickly. The old pony had been so impressed with his progress that day, not only had he taught Stasis how to magically adjust an object’s temperature, but seemingly out of nowhere, the old wizard had asked Stasis if he would like to be read a story.

What a silly question. He, even more so than most of his siblings, was a story glutton; he loved to hear grand tales, whether they be of far-off lands and times or of local warlocks and their inexhaustible appetites for the disobedient and mischievous. He wondered what a pony story would be like. He hoped it wouldn’t suck too much.

For reasons unspecified, the little changeling had to be in bed and ready to go asleep before the story could be read. Since Stasis didn’t know any good pony stories, he had let Star Swirl pick.

The old stallion sat on his haunches beside the bed, shook his robes a bit as if to get the dust out, stroked his luscious beard a few times, checked the flame of the oil lamp on the nightstand as if to see if it would be bright enough for his weak eyes, cleared his throat a few times, and picked up a book.

Alas, it seemed to be the Abra of books, being a boring shade of brown, rather rough about the edges, and with a taciturn look about it. Still, the little changeling listened rapturously as the old pony began the old pony tale.

“Once upon a time-“

“Huh?”

Star squinted at him. “’Huh?’ What do you mean, ‘Huh?’ What part of the first four words is a ‘huh?’”

The little changeling shrugged. “I don’t understand the beginning. It doesn’t make any sense.”

Star Swirl shook his head. “Just roll with it, lad.” He cleared his throat and began again.

“Once upon a time, in a land far, far away-“

“Where?”

Star glared at him. “I don’t know where lad. I’m just trying to read the bloody book. You’ll know as soon as I do.”

“The author should be more specific,” Stasis chided. “‘Far, far away,’ could be anywhere.”

“Aye,” nodded the old pony. “When I’m good and dead, I’ll be sure to track him down and mention that to him. Now, where was I…oh, that’s right. The very first sentence.”

Clearing his throat, the pony began again. “Once upon a time, in a land far, far away, there lived a beautiful farmer’s daughter who dreamed of one day being a princess.”

Stasis frowned. “What, like Celestia or something? I’m confused.”

Star Swirl began rubbing his forehead.

As time passed and the story unfolded, Stasis thought it very strange, with an altogether different perspective than the ones his family told. The hero was a lone vigilante fighting a despot to free his people and rescue a mare of particular importance to him; quite strange.

There were tales of singular, valorous changelings, of course. Of roguish underlings who outwitted their dull prey, escaped detection and capture, and returned victorious with plenty of energy for their families over and over again. Of Killings, strong and fearless who, with their mother’s blessing, volunteered to rescue a young, childless queen from capture, taking no notice of the losses they sustained to save her and bring her to safety. Of queens who, much as Mother had tried to do, led their children to new lands of plenty where hunger was a memory.

There were precious, precious few stories of princes, although these Stasis held particularly dear to his heart. A good queen would try to care for each of her children, but ultimately the loss of a single underling was of little consequence; they were easily and naturally replaced. The loss of a queen was a much greater tragedy; hundreds of her children would be displaced, many of them doomed to die. It would be only a matter of time, however, before a new queen moved into the territory, the dead mother’s loss her gain.

But to lose a prince was devastating. Every one of his queens would most likely be forced to move closer to a new husband, taking with her hundreds of ravenous children, causing great strife as resources were depleted and entrenched queens were forced to watch their offspring go hungry to feed mothers who had let their own husband die. The only internecine wars ever fought by changelings had occurred after the death of a prince.

Of course, it was part of the prince’s duty to prevent such conflict within his own family, even by ostracizing a queen if necessary. But not every prince was strong enough to force his will on his wives, and not every prince was willing. What was universally agreed upon, however, was that princes should never take to the battlefield, or undergo any risk at all; they were instead stowed away where all their wives could access them with relative ease, and their primary responsibility was to stay alive at all cost. This left precious room for heroics, or anything else interesting enough to weave into a story.

There were other differences between Star Swirl’s story and the changelings’. Many of the oldest, grandest tales of his kind were meant to be sung, and every generation one or two underlings would be chosen by Mother to memorize the epics and sing for his siblings whenever they asked. This was often someling crippled too severely to be of any other use to the family, perhaps having been paralyzed in battle or blinded by sickness. It was well within her right to cull such creatures, as she often did with hatchlings born with great defects. Some of the other eldest were said to claim that it was the Progenitor’s wish that any underling with fault should be culled, so that their race may be perfect, as their fathers and mothers were perfect.

But although she did not speak of it – Mother rarely explained her thoughts or motivations – she seemed to prefer finding some way for even idiots and cripples to contribute to the family. That was why Chigger was brought in to deal with any situation involving counting, adding, and the like, as rare as those might be, and why some underlings were set aside as bards and storytellers, despite how unpractical the occupation. Stasis supposed he supported the sparing of defectives, if only because he thought Mother was much wiser than any of the other eldest mothers.

It also didn’t hurt that the previous bard, Holoptic, who was mad, had often told the little changeling how special he was and how important he would one day be to the whole world. Stasis knew this wasn’t flattery since Holoptic had later tried to strangle him in his sleep, before being slain and disposed of by the watchers.

Mother herself never sang, or so Stasis was told, except once, on the eve of his hatching. Seeing his eyes, she was said to have burst into song. In the old tongue she trilled, a piercing, wailing dirge that would have seemed more fitting at a funeral than a birth; but that was just Mother’s way, the old way. Everyling set aside their work and play while they listened, and for three days and three nights the forest’s only sound was that of Mother. Stasis’ only regret was that he had not been old enough to remember the song himself; none would recount the words, and Mother herself had finally commanded him not to bring up the subject again.

“And they lived happily ever after,” Star Swirl declared, slapping the book shut.

Stasis jumped, the ending shocking in its suddenness. Taking a moment to organize his thoughts, he asked, “What, so nothing ever happened to them after that?”

“Nothing but happiness, I reckon,” said the old pony with a shrug. “The villain’s dead, the hero’s got his girl, everypony wins.”

“The villain doesn’t win,” Stasis pointed out.

“The villain never wins,” Star Swirl rejoined.

“Well, that doesn’t seem very realistic to me.”

Star Swirl blinked. “Realistic? You’re six years old, lad. You’re pure imagination run amok. What do you know about ‘realistic’?”

“Maybe seven,” Stasis retorted with a pout. “And I’m very realistic! If I were in a story, I’d never be the villain, since he always loses. I’d be the hero until the story was over – then I’d ditch the girl and rule the entire kingdom all by myself just like I wanted to, and I’d hire some huge, ugly guy as my headspony so that everypony knew exactly what was coming off if they didn’t do what I said, when I said it.”

Star Swirl looked at him for a few moments.

“…Sometimes, I just wish I could wash everything out of your brain with soap and start from scratch.”

“Anyway, what do I need a weak princess-queen like that anyway?” Stasis continued. “’Oh, save me, save me!’ That’s all she’s good for, being saved. What do I need a queen like that for anyway? If I needed a queen at all, I’d want one who could chew steel and spit arrows, that’s what I’d want. Somepony useful.”

Star Swirl snorted. “Love doesn’t always work out like you think it will when you’re six.”

“Love is an emotion,” Stasis asserted. “I wouldn’t make kingdom-altering decisions based on something superficial like that. I wouldn’t have to love the queen, I would only have to tolerate her.”

“How practical. I’m glad I get to raise such a practical child.”

Stasis stood up in bed. “And there’s other problems with this story too. The farmfilly relied on fate to make her dreams come true, but if she really wanted to become a princess, she should have made plans to off the old royal family. I don’t like how her laziness gets rewarded like that.

“And I’m a little confused about Prince Valiant. He must have killed half the guardsponies in the kingdom and then slew Count Putrid without a second thought. It was very impressive, but aren’t heroes at least supposed to feel bad about that kind of thing? I mean, if I killed scores and scores of my enemies, my first thought afterwards wouldn’t be ‘Hey, look, a pretty girl! Let’s get married!’

“And Count Putrid had very poor judgment,” Stasis continued. “Anyone who chooses as his personal army guys that can get cut to pieces by a single blue-blood prince is getting what’s coming to him. Also, I really disagree with the principle that death is too good for one’s enemies. I think that death is really good for one’s enemies. And –“

Star Swirl abruptly stood up, heaving a great sigh. “Somepony in this room is way past his bedtime, I think. Can you guess who that is?”

“Is it me?” Stasis guessed, laying back down.

“Aye.” The old pony stretched, several vertebrae popping their relief as he did so. “As much as I’ve enjoyed your penetrating review of this old children’s tale, lad, it’s time for you to go to sleep. Goodnight.”

“Goodnight, Star Swirl.”

* * *

Stasis stood next to the window, feeling the cold night air seep around the edges, watching the moon rise, its visage blurred and distorted through the pitter-patter of rain on the thin glass. The pegasi had warned of a storm building over the Everfree, blowing this way via a western wind. Stasis had waited for this night, knowing that any royal guards brave enough to weather this storm would stand little chance of spotting a single, little changeling making for the border.

He twitched his wing, and it did not hurt. It had been seventeen days since he was abandoned in Trottingham, and the appendage was as healed as it was going to get. Seventeen days of learning the alphabet and spelling, counting and adding, spells and stories. Of playing with Major and bugging Star Swirl. Leaving was not going to get any easier if he waited.

Again covering his flesh with the thin, arcane masque that his only protection here in Equestria, he walked to the door, opening it slowly so that it would not creak overmuch. Carefully avoiding the noisy ones, he made his way down the steps and into the dark hallway where he had first met Star Swirl.

Though he had thought it certain that the old wizard would be asleep by this time of night, upon opening the door to the living room he saw a faint light flickering furtively across the dusty floorboards. Peeking one eye around the corner, the little changeling saw Star Swirl’s back, hunched over a fresh piece of parchment, scribbling away as a long candle burned on either side of him. Stasis took a step back.

He could use a window instead. He could return to his room until the old stallion finally went to bed. He could simply wait until another night, wait until things were perfect for his escape. After all, he need only leave Equestria once; Mother had always told him that immortals had no excuse for impatience. What would she think if he got caught because he was unwilling to wait a few days for the best opportunity?

He shook his head and pushed forward, creeping low to the ground, quiet as a shadow, weaving between wooden legs and using the many benches and tables for cover as he made his escape. There, the door within reach, he took one last look at the pony, never looking so old as he did then, scruffy old cape hanging off his frame as he sat, leaned over his scroll, bearded face gaunt and wrinkled as his squinted eyes tried to see by the weak light of the flames.

Feeling his momentum slipping, Stasis finally looked away, opening the front door very slowly indeed, thankful for the recently oiled hinges. As the moonlit street came into view, a voice called out softly behind him.

“This is always a home for you, lad. If you want it.”

Stasis turned about swiftly, but Star Swirl was still scratching away, taking no notice of the little changeling at the entrance. Feeling uneasy, Stasis swiftly stepped outside and shut the door behind him.

Looking up, Stasis let the light rain wash his face, calming him. He soon began trotting down the road, following the path he had plotted out in his head. The cobblestone street was as empty as he had ever seen it, not a single soul passing him on his way. Once or twice he thought he saw a glint of gold high above, a stark contrast to the black and silver night.

Within minutes, pony brick and stone gave way to the familiar sights and scents of green meadows and wet loam. A flicker of thought and his horn was gone, replaced by wings, long and curved and grey. He stretched them slowly, feeling a thrum but hearing the slow, rhythmic beat of feathered pennon. Tensing his haunches, the little changeling looked towards the stars and leapt, outstretched wings beating against air, straining slightly to force his weighty body against tireless gravity.

He flew in small circles low above the earth, occasionally dipping down and skipping along the ground, giving forgotten muscles time to waken, allowing his mind time to remember the thoughts and patterns of flight, of currents and eddies, of using the wind and fighting it. Finally he began to feel stronger, more confident, and he took to the skies, rising higher and higher until the world was but a grey, featureless expanse below. Turning towards the Everfree, he began to fly.

He had not flown long when the first gust struck him. It unbalanced him, more from surprise than from the strength of it, but he pushed on. Soon the sky began to darken, until what had been scattered clouds became a blanket, a wall stretched across the world, blocking out the night’s light. The rain rose from a patter to a batter to a force, dragging and beating at his wings and forcing his eyes shut. Gusts became gales, and he found it took all of his strength simply to keep from being snatched from the air and flung backwards like a piece of parchment.

Searching down below, his predator’s eyes spotted a black mass atop a hill, a lone tree holding strong against the storm. Folding his wings, the little changeling dropped swiftly, diving into the branching flora and alighting on one of the thick branches near the trunk.

Perched like a bird of prey, Stasis’ mind began to wander as he waited out the tempest. It did not take long for his thoughts to turn towards his life with the ponies. Towards Star Swirl, the grumpy, recalcitrant old wizard who always gave Stasis what he needed, even before he knew he needed it. Knowledge, yes, and spells, and stories.

He thought also of Major, who was so very, very strange, but had somehow become an indispensable catalyst for all of Stasis’ activities these days, both mischievous and benign. Stasis wished very much that Major were a changeling instead of a pony.

Thoughts of Major finding other companions to play with instead left him feeling achy and miserable, and so he turned his thoughts instead to his own family. Soon he would get to see them all again, get to hear their chittering voices surrounding him, get to share all the things he had learned. He would finally see Mother again, whom he missed most of all. He wanted to be with her once more, even if she scolded him for being gone so long.

Of course, all that would last only a short time. That’s what Mother had told him; in a blink of an eye, he would be an adolescent. In the flicker of a wing, it would time for him to leave the family and start his own, whether he felt ready or not. His true life would begin, ages spent performing his duties to his family, watching over them. His brothers and sisters, so eternal to him now, would each age and die, to be replaced by others who would also age and die. Mother told him that when he grew older, he would understand the burden of immortality in a mortal world; he would understand why he should bind himself, not to feeble individuals, cursed with rot from birth, but to eternal concepts, immutable ideals such as duty to his wives and children and race. Mother was wise; Mother was the wisest creature he had ever known. His siblings obeyed her without question.

Stasis wanted to live forever. He wanted also the wisdom that Mother promised him would come with age. The other things, though…the dour life that Mother led, the tired, worn look about her you could see if you watched her carefully enough…he didn’t want those things. He liked the power being a father would bring, but not the responsibilities. He thought of the ponies, with their destinies tattooed on their butts from an early age. As a tattoo-less creature, he should be the freest in the world, not the most bound.

A particularly strong burst of wind beat against the tree, and Stasis shifted on his branch. He tried to think about what he would do if he wasn’t a prince. Of course, he would play on swings as much as he wanted, and eat anything that struck his fancy – but he knew that there was more to it than that. He thought of the stories he had heard, both from his family and Star Swirl.

There could be nothing better, he decided, than to be a character in a story. Not a foolish hero; they were just as bound by duty and goodness as his mother was by duty and family. Not a foolish villain either, always doomed to fail through some flaw. No, Stasis would just be Stasis, and do whatever it was that Stasis wanted to do. He would be smarter, wiser, stronger, faster, better. No one would want to be his enemy. He would visit everything, see everything, and know everything. Then he would build Stasisgrad.

He wanted to do these things, but he could not. He wanted to learn more about the ponies – strange and weak and stupid, yes, but also capable of making beds, and houses, and spears, and books, many, many books – but he could not. He wanted to learn every kind of spell, but he could not. He wanted, but could not.

He thought of himself, tried to imagine what he would look like as a grown prince, what he would be like. He thought of his father. He had seen Father once, a few years before. For whatever reason, Father had decided to come and visit Mother, instead of the other way around.

Stasis remembered the sudden hush, and, looking up, he had seen what at first glance he thought was Mother. Tall, tall and proud, as tall as Mother but with better defined muscles and longer fangs. He had walked with her gait, slow and steady and sure, his hair falling free about his head and face and neck in the same way that hers did. He had possessed her stern expression, her hard look as his gaze roved over his children, now lying prostrate before him, bellies on the ground and none daring meet his eyes.

It was his eyes that were different. As the great Son of Change saw Stasis, he stopped, his gaze meeting the little hatchling’s. His eyes were a beautiful, gay yellow, as bright as the sun and twice as numerous. But if Mother’s eyes possessed pride in her own accomplishments, Father’s possessed something altogether more inimical: jealousy. Jealousy, yes, and a sort of harsh contempt that he bore towards Stasis alone.

Of course, it would not be until much later that Stasis would understand. Father felt no need to prove his virility as Mother did, not when he possessed a score and more of wives and thousands upon thousands of children at any given time. One of the eldest, Father had, through strength of body and seed and simple longevity secured for himself a place deep in the heart of the forests of the continent, where prey were plenty and fat and strong, and where hunger was an occasional nuisance instead of a way of life.

Father, then, did not see in his true son a blessing, but a competitor. Even if Mother were unwilling to do so, Father himself would one day drive Stasis far away, to hard, bitten lands where Stasis’ own family would not conflict with those of his brethren. Stasis thought of the look his father had given him, his lips peeled back from sharp fangs, and he hissed.

Why should he be the one forced away? Why should he have to leave, live in the harshest regions, have the least numerous and appealing wives? Was Father smarter than he? Was he better?

Stasis didn’t think so. Stasis didn’t think there was anyone better than he. Given the chance, he could be just as great as the prince in the Physiologus. He could hunt dragons for sport, just as one had once hunted Father.

Perhaps, instead of going home and fulfilling the plan that had been laid out for him, he could stay here in Trottingham for a little while longer. He could learn everything the ponies had to teach before he went back to his own kind. After all, if what Mother said was true, then it would only be the blink of an eye before he was with her again.

As he thought of Mother, some of his anger turned to fear. If he didn’t return right away, what would she think? Every so often, an underling on a mission would fail to return, and the word ‘quisling’ would be whispered in secret. Vertex, a quiet Killing who was known to have Mother’s ear, would always disappear shortly after that; when he returned days or weeks or months later, nothing more would ever be said about the missing changeling again.

Stasis would not be a quisling, though, since he was going to return. He would simply tell Mother that his injury was more serious than it had been, perhaps that his wing had been completely destroyed and regrown. Or he might tell her that Star Swirl had taken him captive and performed all manner of terrible pony experiments upon him. She would probably believe that.

Feeling the urge to move, to do something other than think, the little changeling flew suddenly out of the tree and into the passing storm. The rain had lessened now, the thickest clouds already well on their way to Trottingham, and he was able to see the Everfree stretching darkly ahead to the horizon. Even if he sought out his family, he wasn’t sure where to look. They could still be close, just beyond the border, regaining their strength; they could have fled all the way back to their old home in the Forgotten Forest, if they were willing to leave the weak and sickly behind, or if the weak and sickly were already dead. They could be anywhere in between.

He could fly right by his family and never even know they were there. Even with flight, it could take weeks to find them, and during that time he would have to feed and protect himself. A cockatrice could petrify him while he slept, and without anyling there to dispel him, he would be trapped in the wild forest until the elements wore him down to changeling-shaped stone, or a beast broke him in two.

He looked behind him. Even wet and limp as it was, the grasslands still appeared more inviting than the great Everfree. He thought he could see the storm’s leading edge breaking up on the horizon, though whether that was because it had run out of rain or because of the tireless efforts of the pegasi, he knew not. Feeling even more uneasy and frightened than before, he flew back towards the retreating storm.

It was some time later when, soaked to the bone and sporting his favorite pony horn again, he sneaked into the old mansion the same way he had come in. He was still dripping all over the floor when Star Swirl exited the kitchen, looking very tired and worn. Upon seeing Stasis, he stopped, and his eyes widened.

“By Celestia’s mane, lad! Didn’t you notice it was raining outside?”

“It’s…raining?” Stasis asked, looking down at the floor. “I…um…didn’t notice.”

“Aye. When the clouds cry, we call that ‘rain.’ Still, I can’t fault a lad for taking a morning stroll. I might have taken one myself, but then I remembered that the outside and I are enemies of a sort. Sky’s always ready to dump buckets on me when I’m not looking; day’s too hot, night’s too cold; ponies always wanting to ask idiot questions when I’m just trying to buy groceries.”

The old wizard adjusted his mighty hat, bells jingling slightly. “Anyway, I think I’m going to take a nap. I have a fool’s hope that I can trust you to eat breakfast and get ready for school on your own this time. You’ve got a long, long day ahead of you.”

For the first time that night, Stasis wanted to cry.

To Keep a Friend, to Share a Cookie

Below sprawled an impossibly vast city of black onyx, a shadow stretching from horizon to horizon, its spires jutting through the clouds as the fangs of a leviathan. The stone itself was strange and beautiful, alabaster streaks lacing through the polished rock, taking the moonlight into themselves and purifying it, reflecting whitest light back into the darkness. Every building, road, and monument sparkled with its own inner glow, as if the entire metropolis were a pool reflecting the glittering sky above.

Immense plazas circled the edges of the city, ebony seas inlaid with strange images of gods and wars and peace and death, of hungering, thirsting, raging fire and a vengeful void, of a prisoner in oblivion and an abomination amongst the stars, all rendered in immaculate marble. The heart of the city was a crescent palace, or temple, or fortress, all hard angles and sharp edges, black inlaid with white and sheathed in silver, its stone and steel visibly swirling and cracking with cold smoke and arcane energies.

Even as Stasis watched, a song began to fill the city, low and soft and piercing. The ponies who walked the streets below, or the shadows of ponies, stopped as one and turned towards the palace. Stasis strained to hear the words, to hear the horrible resolve that spilled out and swept through his dreams.

“Stasis….”

He ‘leaned’ down, trying to see the singer –

“Stasis….”

Trying to make her out –

“Stasisstasisstasisstasisstasisstasisstasisstasisstasisstasis –“

“What!” Stasis exploded, opening his eyes. “Discord’s tooth, what is it, Major?”

“Hey, Stasis, why are you sleeping on the ground like that?” asked his companion. “Are you feeling sick?”

Stasis groaned. “It’s grass, Major. You’re supposed to sleep on it.”

“Really? Nopony ever told me that before!” Major exclaimed, plopping down beside the little changeling. They stared at each other for a few moments. The silence stretched.

“You know, maybe beds really are better for sleeping after all,” Stasis decided, standing up.

“I don’t know. I kind of like it. It’s very…grassy,” Major mulled out loud. Grabbing a few strands with his teeth, the orange pony wore a thoughtful expression as he chewed.

Stasis rolled his eyes. He’d tried eating a bunch of grass a few weeks ago, just to see what would happen. ‘Indigestion’ was what happened. And constipation. And gas. So much gas….

“Hey, did you want to go to that thing?” asked Major, standing up again.

“What thing?”

Major gestured with his hooves. “You know, that…thing…that we signed up for?”

Stasis thought for a moment. “You mean the play?”

“Yeah!” confirmed Major, nodding happily. “The play! Practice starts today. Miss Brighten said that we’d better get there early if we want to try out for any of the good parts.”

Stasis pondered. On the one hoof, practicing for a play sounded somewhat antithetical to the entire pony concept of ‘summer vacation’, a concept of which he heartily approved. (Until a few days ago, Stasis had thought that Star Swirl had made the whole thing up just to get him to work harder on his schoolwork, sort of like the time that Mag had convinced him that they were actually all just part of some changeling’s dream and that if Stasis kept on asking her questions, then the dreamer would wake up.) On the other hoof, now that finals were over and Star Swirl had banished him from the house, Stasis was bored. There was only so much napping in the park one could do.

“Well…okay, we can go,” agreed Stasis. “But if this turns out to be a bad idea, I just want you to remember that it was yours.”

“Okay. Let’s go!” shouted Major, cantering off towards the theater with the little changeling not far behind. Or at least, Stasis hoped that they were cantering towards the theater; it was not unheard of for Major to go somewhere and assume he would find out where it was when he got there.

After a few minutes, Stasis stopped short and called out to his orange companion.

“Hey, Major! Isn’t this the place?”

Major wheeled around, curving across the street in a large arc before pulling up alongside the little changeling.

Trotting in place, he said, “Well, no, I don’t think so, Stasis. See? The sign says ‘heater.’ We’re not looking for a heater, we’re looking for a theater. Remember?”

“I know what we’re looking for, Major,” Stasis grumbled. “But see how there’s a clean spot in the shape of a ‘t’? I think this is a theater.”

“Well…okay,” Major said, sounding dubious. “It still says ‘heater’ though. Also, it looks really, really old.”

His companion was right; it was as dilapidated a building as Stasis had seen here in Trottingham. Paint was peeled, rafters were rent, windows were wrecked. Various plants were slowly crawling their way up the walls, and fat, juicy birds were nesting on the roof.

Still, it was one of the largest structures that Stasis had seen in this part of town, and the somewhat ornate architecture suggested that it had once been a grand structure, back when Star Swirl was a babe and his beard was mere stubble.

“Well, we’re not going to figure anything out standing here,” Stasis reminded his companion, and together they made their way inside.

Things were significantly better once they entered into the lobby. Which is to say, the building didn’t seem quite so close to passing. There was carpet, but it was packed down and had a somewhat offensive odor to the little changeling’s sensitive nose. There were faded posters on the wall advertising performances, but somepony had scribbled mustachios and horns on all the performers in a half-hearted manner, as if they could take little joy from desecrating such a wearied temple to the arts.

Passing through a set of double-doors, Stasis saw a vast, open room filled with descending rows that ponies could sit in. Dim lighting was provided by gas lamps along the walls, and several young unicorns were up on a platform near the ceiling, directing beams of light from their horns down onto the stage below. The low murmur of pony voices echoed across the room.

Stasis quickly made his way down one of the sloped aisles to the rear of the theater, assuming Major to be close behind. There he found some steps off to the side and soon joined a group of his schoolmates who were milling about onstage.

In fact, it quickly became apparent that the only ponies there were his schoolmates, save for one gaunt, older earth pony whose general appearance matched that of the surrounding establishment quite well. His mane was greasy, his tail was untrimmed, and the ratty suit he wore seemed to serve only as a testament to its owner’s lack of personal care. Having no interest in mingling with his schoolmates, Stasis quickly trotted up to the pony.

“Are you the guy in charge?” he demanded.

The pony looked down at him, his jaws working as he chewed some foul-smelling weed.

“Celestia help me, but I am,” he said simply.

“And this acting thing. It’s sort of like lying, right?” At least, that’s the way it had sounded when Major explained it to him.

“This world is full of liars, young thespian. Ponies who will tear down your dreams and set them ablaze as sacrifices to the gods of consumerism and pop culture. The theater is perhaps the most honest place in the world, because it is only here that everypony knows that you’re lying.”

Stasis was quiet for a few moments, digesting this. “So…when are we going to start?” he finally asked.

The pony shrugged. “Does it truly matter? We can start now. Or we can start later.”

Stasis eyed him doubtfully. “So…how about now?”

The pony shrugged again. “Why not? The longer we wait here, the greater the chance that this entire establishment will collapse around us, forever entombing the next generation in the rotting husk of artistic thought and free expression. Let us begin.”

Taking a few steps towards the mass of chattering pony children, the older, dirtier pony said, “Children.”

A few of the quieter ponies looked towards the front. The rest kept chatting.

“Children. Heed me now, children.”

Stasis rolled his eyes. Sometimes, it was difficult to understand how ponies in Trottingham had survived before he got here. You’d think that squirrels and chickadees would be preying on ponies, the way things stood now.

Walking up next to the adult equine, he drew his magic into his horn. Casting a spell Star Swirl had taught him, he let loose a burst of crackling light and noise into the air, much like fireworks. The ponies stopped and stared.

“Yes. Thank you, young thespian,” said the adult pony. “As I was trying to say…it appears that most of you are already here. I have no doubt that most of you who are here wish that you were not, that you are, in fact, only here by order of your various parental figures, but let that be your first lesson: life itself hates you, and will not stop until you are dead.”

The pony scratched himself absently. “Anyway. I suppose I should introduce myself. My parents, being blessed with little imagination and a strong desire to see their only child ‘fit in,’ elected to name me Jack. This stands for nothing, it means nothing, and serves no higher purpose than to give each of you a particular grunt you can make when you want to get my attention. Wish to ask for permission to leave the theater and do something more meaningful with your lives? ‘Jack,’ you must say. It’s really very simple.

“But as for myself…I, Jack, am the sole owner, manager, and employee of this once-fine establishment. We have been tasked by the city council with the solemn duty of performing a rendition of Pony Quest, a so-called play spoken of by the intelligentsia only in hushed whispers in the darkest corners of the seediest, most plebian bookstores and tea shops throughout Equestria. Indeed, the author’s name itself has become a curse, and is one which shall not be uttered here.

“Uncultured, unpolished, and unsophisticated, this vulgar work of sophomoric drivel will forever be associated with what was once the most renowned and celebrated institution of art and aestheticism in all of western Equestria. You, children, will be part and parcel to this aggressive defamation; you will become vital and irredeemable agents in the utter philistinization of society and the destruction of all those aspects of civilization that elevate us above mere beasts.”

Jack paused for a few moments, and then shrugged. “Anyway. I suppose we should just move straight to casting. I’ve already selected our lighting technicians from amongst the more grubby, recidivistic-looking members of our group, so I’m afraid much of what’s left are parts and jobs requiring actual talent and effort.”

A number of the more magically-inclined children grumbled.

“Now,” he continued, “who wishes to audition for the part of the protagonist?”

A small sea of hooves were raised, including the hooves of several fillies and, Stasis noticed, sometimes more than one hoof by the same pony.

“Please bear in mind that he is essentially a caricature of a true hero, an amalgam of positive traits associated with heroes by the collective conscious. Tall, strong, and handsome, he has no significant flaws, no character development, and precious, precious little personality. Really, his greatest virtue is his service as a vehicle for fantastical self-insertion on the part of the audience. Through him, our patrons can, for however brief a time, imagine that they, too, are tall, strong, and handsome. They are willing to pay for this opportunity as a means of escaping their children, spouses, and mirrors, all of which are far too likely to give them the truth of the matter.”

A few more ponies seemed to have gathered their courage and were now adding their hooves to the others’.

“So be it,” declared Jack. “Stand over at stage right.” A few seconds later, he added, “The other stage right.”

Once all of the ponies had settled down again, he continued, “Now. Anypony who wishes to play the antagonist, please go to stage left. Have no fear: the character is as flat and illogically motivated a one as has been put from pen to paper. As far as the plot is concerned, his part could as easily have been played by a tornado or parasprite swarm, save that that would deny the valiant hero the chance to cut him down at the climax.

“All you really need to be concerned about when playing this part is to convey a general sense of ‘evilness’ to the audience. Nothing subtle here; indeed, it is to be discouraged. Try to glare as much possible, use makeup to make yourself uglier than you already may be, and cackle in as unpleasant a way as possible at everypony’s misfortune, thus destroying whatever empathy the audience might have for you and destroying your very equinity in their eyes, rendering yourself a mere force or presence to be decried and forsworn. Also, the ability to monologue in as off-putting and arrogant a way as possible is a plus.”

Stasis moved to the designated area. A colt walked in that direction too, but when he saw the little changeling, he just turned around and went back.

With his position secured, Stasis tuned out Jack and instead turned his attention to more important matters: where in the world was Major? If the orange pony had left just because the building was called a heater instead of a theater, Stasis was going to be angry.

Fortunately, he soon spotted his companion over with his other schoolmates, engaged in animate conversation with a small white-and-yellow filly not much bigger than Stasis himself. When it came time to cast the villain’s henchpony, Stasis summoned a beam of light and shone it directly on Major’s face.

“You!” he shouted.

“Me?” questioned Major, blinking rapidly and shielding his eyes with one hoof.

“Yes, you! Get over here!” demanded Stasis, brooking no excuses.

As Major trotted up next to him, Stasis turned to Jack and said, “This is my henchpony.”

Jack chewed his malodorous weed slowly a few times, shrugged, and continued with the casting.

Stasis turned to his so-called companion. “What were you doing? You were supposed to be over here with me!”

“Well, I met this nice girl, and I was talking with her,” said Major, all innocence.

Stasis eyed the little filly, who was playing with her tail. “I don’t know, Major. She looks like trouble to me.”

“She seemed really nice,” said Major once more. Stasis rolled his eyes. Major thought that everypony was nice. It was like he didn’t have any judgment at all.

Soon enough the auditions began, which were a bit more interesting. Stasis tried to get Major to join him in mocking the other ponies’ performances, but Major just didn’t seem to be into that kind of thing, and Stasis got bored with it himself soon enough. The ponies were almost all really bad; they didn’t seem to know how to lie at all. Stasis would have shown them himself, but since he was the only one auditioning for the part, he kind of won it by default.

The only real highlight of the auditions was the free-for-all for protagonist. Pierce won, and hoofily; Stasis didn’t really find that surprising, since Pierce actually was tall and strong and handsome, at least by pony standards. No, he was surprised that Pierce had even signed up for this whole play thing in the first place. Not only that, but Pierce was actually quite good, using his deep voice and commanding presence to give a performance that seemed on the verge of drawing praise from Jack himself. Stasis considered him a worthy foe.

On a less interesting note, Abra was there, although she didn’t look happy about it. After failing to get a position as a technician, she was eventually cast as the hero’s love interest. Stasis was quite surprised, until he learned that the hero’s love interest was actually an outcast witch who was so desperate for the hero’s affections that she had given him a love poison to steal his heart. Then it all made sense.

Although several hours had passed, it still came as something of a shock when Jack declared all the parts and positions filled and dismissed everypony, saying that practice would begin at the same time the next day. As the ponies slowly began to disperse, the same filly from before – who had been cast as a warrior princess of some kind, Stasis hadn’t really been paying attention to that part – waltzed up and started talking to Major again, as if he were her companion, not Stasis’.

“Just what do you think you’re doing?” Stasis demanded, and with authority.

“What?” asked the silly little filly in her squeaky little voice.

“Nopony said that you could talk to my companion,” Stasis continued, glaring at her.

She glared back. “Major can talk to whoever he wants to,” she said in a know-it-all tone.

“No, he can’t,” Stasis countered.

“You’re mean.”

He bristled. “No I’m…yeah, well, you’re stupid.”

She gasped. Then struck him.

Stasis stared at his shoulder. Then he stared at her.

He raised one hoof on high.

“No, Stasis! No!” Major shouted, leaping forward and wrapping both his forelegs around Stasis’ own.

“She hit me first, Major! You saw her! You saw her!” Stasis shouted back. “I have just cause!”

“No, Stasis, you can’t! She’s a girl!”

“So?” Stasis demanded, still trying to yank his hoof from Major’s iron grasp.

“You can never hit girls, Stasis! Never, ever, ever!”

“Yeah!” shouted the girl, who had wisely taken a few steps back. “And I’ll tell!”

Stasis heaved, pulling his limb free. He gave both ponies the most venomous glare he could muster. Pointing at Major, he said, “You’re stupid.”

Pointing now at the girl, he said, “And you’re stupid. You’re both stupid, stupid, stupid.”

The girl harrumphed. Turning to Major, she said, “Well, my name’s Goldie. We should play together sometime. Just don’t bring Stasis, since he’s a great big jerk!” she exclaimed, glaring at the little changeling. Turning around and flicking her tail at Stasis in an oh-so arrogant manner, she marched off.

Turning quickly to his companion, Stasis said, “Don’t listen to her lies, Major. She’s just trying to get inside your head. I’m actually a great companion. The best! Nopony’s smarter or stronger or better than me.”

Major looked unconvinced. “I don’t know, Stasis…I really, really want to be friends with that girl.”

Stasis scowled and opened his mouth to rebuke his rebellious companion, but then he saw the expression on Major’s face and bit back his reply. He knew that Major had been wanting to play with other ponies more and more lately. Stasis didn’t really feel the need for other ponies; between Star Swirl and Major, he already had his hooves full dealing with recalcitrant equines. But Stasis still remembered how Major had nearly abandoned him when he refused to apologize to Pierce, and Star Swirl had been warning him that he needed to cut Major some more slack if he wanted to keep him as a companion. Stasis wasn’t sure that Star Swirl knew much about companions since he didn’t actually have any of his own, but he certainly knew more about it than Stasis did.

Stupid Goldie and her stupid ‘niceness’ and good-natured ways. All ponies were like that, really; they were all trying to make him look bad in front of Major, who was particularly susceptible to such things. Anyway, perhaps Stasis could stand to be a bit more lenient with his orange companion, to be a bit more…competitive. After all, Stasis was nothing if not competitive.

Stasis tapped his hoof against the plank floor a few times before, jaw tight, he said, “…Okay. I tell you what.”

“What?” asked Major.

“I guess I’ll let you be companions with this ‘Goldie,’” he continued, making quotation marks in the air around her name to show just how much contempt he had for the very idea of her. “But first you have to agree that the two of us are best companions. You understand? The very best. You’re not allowed to have any companions that are better than me.”

Major grinned and hugged him. Stasis froze, but didn’t push his companion away. He’d told Major that he wasn’t used to being touched like that and didn’t really like it, but he put up with it this one time, since he knew it made Major happy. That was the point of the exercise, after all; if Major wasn’t happy, he might not want to be Stasis’ companion anymore.

“Thanks, Stasis! Hey, I’m going to go find Goldie before she gets too far and tell her that we can be friends now,” said Major quickly, letting go of the little changeling and galloping off.

As his companion thumped down the stairs and out of the theater, Stasis looked about. All the other children had left, Jack disappearing somewhere, and the entire dusty, dreary ‘auditorium’ – as Stasis had heard it called – was barely lit by the dim, dying gas lamps lining the walls, giving the vast room a hallowed look, like a vast mausoleum. Perhaps that was why Jack kept on about the death of art, thought Stasis; he probably spent way too much time in this old place.

It only took a few moments of standing there for Stasis to decide that perhaps catching up to Major was a good idea after all, even if meant watching his best companion fraternize with this ‘Goldie.’ He began making his way offstage.

As he passed into the unlit area behind the stage, filled with the dark masses of junk piled up over the years, set pieces and racks of costumes and strange mechanisms that even his predator’s eyes couldn’t make out, he heard a voice call to him softly from the shadows.

“Stasis?” called the voice. “Stasis Silvertongue?”

Stasis froze. How did it know his name? Nopony here knew his family name, not even Star Swirl.

“Who’s there?” he asked. He really, really hoped that it wasn’t a ghost. His siblings had told him often of the spirits of rebellious changelings left unburied in the woods, or even quislings, who would appear as lights or voices in the darkness and would lead unwary changelings away from their families, into the forbidden reaches of the forest where twisted things hid in the shadows, and not even the monsters dared to tread. Stasis couldn’t imagine what he had done to bother a ghost, or why it should come after him in a theater. He hoped that meant it didn’t know where he lived.

A larger, bland-looking reddish-brown pegasus colt stepped tentatively out from behind a piece of setting. Stasis poked him.

“You’re not a ghost at all,” he accused. Now he just felt silly, and angry that the pony had tricked him like that.

The other pony slowly reached out and poked him back. “No, and neither are you, are you? You’re really alive!”

This time, the pony had spoken in the old tongue. It took a few moments of silence for Stasis’ brain to come to the realization that this was not, in fact, a pony.

“No,” he said quickly. “No, you must have me confused with some other Stasis. I’m Stasis…the Bearded? Yes! I’m Stasis the Bearded!” he continued, the words almost tripping over themselves in their haste.

“I know it’s you, Stasis,” said the other changeling, sotto voce. “Oh my. Oh my, oh my, oh my! You’re alive. You’re really alive!” he continued in growing excitement, touching Stasis again, as if afraid that he would suddenly disappear in a puff of smoke.

Stasis batted the hoof away. “Shh! Be quiet!” he commanded, also in the old tongue. “And no, I’m not here, I’m not alive, I’m not real, I’m not Stasis, and you have to go! Right now. Go away! Shoo! Scat!” He waved furiously at the changeling, kicking him lightly in the hindquarters, trying to force him towards the exit.

“You’re right! Oh, you’re so right!” the changeling said suddenly, as if inspiration had struck him. “I have to tell Mother right away! Oh my, oh my, oh my! You don’t even know how terrible things have been since you died. She won’t eat, she can’t sleep, Father even came by and said some terrible things to her and she still won’t leave the little nest we made for her. Imagine how happy she’ll be when she learns that you were here and not dead the whole time!” Flapping his wings, the pony-changeling hovered and turned towards the exit.

“Wait!” Stasis screamed, leaping into the air and seizing hold of the changeling’s hooves, pulling him bodily to the ground.

“No, no, no!” he whispered hoarsely. “You will not tell Mother anything! You will tell her that you didn’t see anything at all! I command you!” he said, looking the changeling – he was pretty sure it was Nit – in the eye.

Nit blinked and looked at him doubtfully. “But…I’m twice as old you! You can’t command me to do anything. Mother said –“

“I don’t care what Mother said!” Stasis shouted.

Nit stared at him, mouth agape.

“If you so much as whisper a syllable of a word to Mother about me, I’ll, I’ll…I’ll turn you into a pony!” Stasis finished, his lips pulling back of their own accord and showing his teeth.

Nit took a step back. “You can’t do that. No one can do that! It’s impossible,” Nit finished, sounding less certain with every word.

Stasis stared Nit in the eye, his own narrow. “Is it? Is it, Nit? I’m a prince. Mother taught me magic, and the Killings, and now I’m the protégé of the most powerful wizard in all of pony history. If you disobey me, I’ll let you explain to your new pony family just how impossible I can be!”

Nit took another step back, his gaze darting about. He licked his lips. “But I…but Mother….”

“I’ll deal with Mother,” Stasis said, his voice suddenly softer, kinder. “This is between her and me. It’s…a queen/prince thing, you see. You wouldn’t understand.”

“But…but….”

Stasis sidled up to Nit, draping one foreleg over the other changeling’s back. Nit flinched.

“I’ll come back soon enough,” he said quietly. “I’ll come back, and then everything will be alright. But don’t forget, I’m godsblood too. Mother doesn’t forgive disobedience….”

He leaned forward so that his mouth was next to Nit’s ear.

“…But neither do I.”

Stasis deliberately removed his leg, stepped back, and gave Nit a hard look. Nit was very, very still for a few moments, and then he walked slowly forwards, moving towards the exit.

Stasis, too, was still, but after a few seconds he began to breathe heavily, and his heart was beating so hard that he raised a hoof to his narrow chest, absently concerned that something might be wrong with it.

Nit wouldn’t tell. Nit wasn’t clever, he wasn’t brave, and he wasn’t crazy; he knew not to get involved in a tiff between Mother and himself. All Nit needed to do was to keep his mouth shut, and everything would be alright. Turning this over in his mind, Stasis, too, made his way towards the stairs.

“Stasis,” called a voice from his left. This one he recognized right away.

It was, he thought, a sign of the innate hatred that the universe had for him that one bit of misfortune couldn’t happen to the little changeling save that it was promptly followed up by a second. He turned to Pierce and smiled.

“Yes?” he asked sweetly. “How may I help you?”

The earth pony was sitting on his haunches, towering over the little changeling, the way his eyes were locked onto Stasis’ the only thing distinguishing him from the rest of the stage pieces.

“Who were you talking to?” he asked, his tone flat.

“I don’t know,” Stasis replied. “How long were you sitting there?”

Pierce said nothing.

“He was nopony,” Stasis continued quickly. “An old acquaintance. He just happened to be here, and I just happened to be here, and we just happened to be here together, is all.”

“What language were you two speaking?” Pierce asked. “I speak a little Gryphonic, and our housekeeper was raised far to the southwest and mutters to herself in Zebra sometimes when she thinks we can’t hear, but it’s been awhile since I heard anything that sounds remotely like what you were speaking just a minute ago.”

Stasis gave his most winning smile. “You know, Pierce, I would really love to alleviate your ignorance right now, but I have…to….”

“Pee?” suggested Pierce.

“…Eat. I’m starving. And I have to feed Star Swirl, too. Do you know how he gets if he doesn’t get his lunch? You don’t want to know. See you later!” Stasis shouted over his shoulder as he fled for the exit.

Outside, the sunshine nearly blinded him. It was probably a good thing, though, for it caused him to pause long enough in his headlong flight for home that he could think things through.

First Goldie, then Nit, and now Pierce. Well, he’d dealt with Goldie first – and would continue to deal with her if he had to, when Major wasn’t around with all his dad’s stupid rules – and had probably taken care of Nit as well. He just hoped that Nit didn’t find any more apple cider; Nit was always complaining about how noling ever told him any secrets, but it was because of how he got after a few bottles of the brown stuff. It was always a big thing when someling acquired a new bottle and snuck it to Nit; all the younger changelings would laugh and laugh and laugh, at least until one of the Killings or the watchers or some other older, grumpier, fun-hating changeling told Mother what was going on and got everyling in trouble. She never really punished Nit, though; she said that how he felt afterwards was punishment enough, but Stasis figured it was because she thought it was really funny too and just didn’t want anyling to know that she had a sense of humor.

There was nothing more that he could do about Nit now, though. But Pierce…Pierce could be a problem. Stasis often got annoyed at how stupid ponies were, but then he would always remember Pierce and remind himself to be thankful for the ponies’ asininity. Stasis had noticed the older colt staring at him during recess, or even watching him out of the corner of his eye while talking to Crimson. He’d just chalked it up to simple animosity and jealousy over Stasis’ superior fighting technique, but Stasis was just too unlucky these days to count on Pierce not being able to sniff out the truth.

What Stasis needed right now was some way to figure out how much Pierce knew, and how much he suspected. But how? This was one of those times when Stasis really, really wished that he knew some good mind magic. Then he could have solved the Pierce, Nit, and Goldie problems without issue. Heck, he could have solved the Star Swirl problem, too. Endless cookies and potaters, forever.

Stasis heard the sound of doors opening behind him. On impulse he ran and dove into the thick weeds beside the theater. Turning about, he kept perfectly still, barely breathing as he watched the entrance.

Sure enough, Pierce soon exited the building, looked around, and then began an unhurried, purposeful trot towards downtown. Stasis hesitated for a few moments, but then, reminding himself of who was the predator and who was the prey in this relationship, he began to stalk Pierce. Moving swiftly with his belly low to the cobblestone road, dashing from one source of cover to the next (preferring especially slow, fat ponies behind whom, or in front of whom, he could track his prey’s movements), Stasis hunted Pierce across the great pony city.

Within a few blocks they had arrived at yet another large, old, ornamented building, although this one appeared in much better condition and said ‘library’ on the front, not ‘heater.’ Upon seeing Pierce enter the structure, Stasis found some conveniently-placed shrubbery and dived in, watching the entrance with the clarity of a hawk and the tenacity of a snail.

Within a few minutes Pierce exited the library, a new, cheap-looking set of saddlebags clearly bulging with several books. Stasis was about to continue his stalking, but then he realized that Pierce was almost undoubtedly going somewhere to read said books. Most likely a location where stalking was much more difficult and frowned upon, such as Pierce’s house. Perhaps it was best to follow the trail of these books instead while it was still fresh. Stasis waited a few minutes and then entered the book-building himself.

Somewhat surprisingly for a little changeling who had come to appreciate the virtues of reading as much as Stasis had, he had never been inside the Trottingham Public Library before. Between all the schoolwork, and all the regular work, and causing trouble with Major, and causing trouble despite Major, and having trouble caused to him in turn by Star Swirl, he had had precious little time for pleasure reading. He hadn’t even finished the Physiologus yet, much less dig into Star’s collection of storybooks and black magic grimoires. (The old wizard still insisted that he didn’t have any books on black magic, but since he also insisted that there was not really any such thing as black magic, Stasis wasn’t prepared to accept Star’s opinion on the matter.)

Books, books, books. They were everywhere. The place even smelled like books. How in the world was Stasis ever supposed to read all of these books? Even if he lived forever, he wasn’t sure that he would have enough time to read all of the books that they had in this place. He wished for a moment that ponies would stop writing so many darn books.

“Can I help you?” called out a rather curt voice.

Turning, Stasis saw that behind a desk was a rather austere-looking unicorn mare peering back at him over half-moon spectacles, her grey mane done up in a bun and her expression one of polite disinterest. This being a public library, he immediately recognized her for what she was.

Bureaucrat. He had heard all about these. Along with hermits and paranoids, they were among the worst possible candidates for feeding. Flattery, charm, bribery; few of the tools at the changeling’s disposal were effective against bureaucrats and their maddening addiction to procedure and protocol. Worse, they had the unfortunate tendency to demand specific personal information that an unprepared changeling might have a very difficult time providing.

He returned the bureaucrat’s look with one of polite hostility. “That blue earth pony that just left,” he said. “Do you know what books he took with him?”

The bureaucrat nodded slowly. “Yes, I do,” she said. “Are you a friend of his?”

“Of course!” Stasis exclaimed crossly, as if the very idea that Pierce was not his friend was simply preposterous.

The bureaucrat looked down at some papers on her desk, as if it were too much to ask that she remember what books the one pony in the entire library had taken out two seconds ago. Stasis wondered if she were just playing with him somehow.

“He took out several non-fiction books on changelings. I’m afraid that they aren’t due back for another three weeks, but I can show you where more are located if you would like,” she said with all the enthusiasm of a Killing on egg-warming duty.

Stasis almost swore in the old tongue, but caught himself at the last moment, transferring his frustration into a low snarl instead. The bureaucrat paused and looked at him over her glasses.

He coughed a few times into his hoof. “Excuse me. Something caught in my throat there. Yeah, you should show me where those books are,” he finished. It was already clear from his initial impression that the public library did not, in fact, use the same organizational system as Star Swirl’s. There wasn’t even a fireplace or a kitchen to use as a reference point; Stasis wasn’t sure how they ever found anything in this place.

As the bureaucrat slowly stood up and began to move, Stasis thought he could hear a faint tearing, the sound of thousands of little roots breaking up as she tore herself from her spot. She made for one of the shelves, little changeling close behind.

Waving at one bookshelf, she proclaimed, “Here is our section on changelings.”

Stasis squinted. “Where?”

The bureaucrat moved forward and pointed to a particular shelf.

Stasis carefully analyzed the collection.

“This selection sucks,” he pointed out.

“Excuse me?” said the bureaucrat, looking piqued.

“I mean, Star Swirl has more books on changelings than you do. Maybe ponies should start borrowing from him instead,” Stasis suggested helpfully.

The bureaucrat’s lips tightened. “You are not obligated to use the public library. If you can convince Mr. Swirl to let you peruse his private collection, you are more than welcome to do so. Also, if you are friends with Pierce, why don’t you just ask him to let you read the books he borrowed instead? He took most of our more didactic texts on what is, after all, a very mysterious and dangerous species to study.”

Stasis pictured Nit in his mind. A very mysterious and dangerous species indeed. Anyway, most of these books were on changelings in folklore and mythology, compilations of poetry about changelings, or studies of changelings in popular culture. Pierce wasn’t going to get anything useful out of these books. Still, it was better safe than sorry.

“I want to get all of these books. Also, do you have a copy of the Physiologus that I can borrow?” he asked nervously.

As the bureaucrat seized the books with her magic and carried them along with her back to the front desk, she said, “No, and even if we did, I’m afraid that you would need special permission to even look at it. Such texts are far too rare and expensive to be open to the public.”

Good. If Pierce ever got his hooves on a Physiologus, then Stasis was in trouble. He still had a question though.
“But I thought that this was a public library?” Stasis asked.

“They aren’t open to the general public. There are specific, privileged publics who are allowed to view our entire selection. Professors and certain professionals, such as Mr. Swirl, are among these.”

“How many publics are there?” asked Stasis, who apparently didn’t understand what that word meant as well as he thought he did.

“I suppose there are infinite number of specific publics, depending on how you break them up.”

“So there are an infinite number of publics, and I’m not in a single one that can look at all your books?” asked Stasis. “Is this where my taxes are going?”

The bureaucrat set the books down on the desk with a thud and turned to face him. “Do you even pay taxes?”

“No, but Star Swirl does. He says that the real reason he joined the city council was so that he could see in person all the different ways you politicians and bureaucrats could waste his money.”

The bureaucrat set a form in front of him and said, “That’s nice. Please fill out this form so you can take your books and be on your way.”

Stasis did so. The mare took it back and looked it over.

“Stasis the Bearded, who lives in the guest room at Star Swirl’s house on the second floor above the kitchen?”

“Yeah.”

“You live with Star Swirl the Bearded? At his house?” continued the bureaucrat, again looking over her glasses.

“Yep.” He thought everypony in town knew about him by now. Maybe she was new.

“And if there are any late fees, should I take them to him in person while the council is in session or just mail them to his mansion at the edge of town?”

Stasis shrugged. “I don’t care. Just add it to his taxes, I guess.”

“Yes, I’m sure I’ll do that,” she said, removing some cards from the books and beginning to vigorously stamp and staple.

Pushing the books back over towards him, she said, “These are due back in three weeks. There is a half-a-bit per day, per book fee as long as they are overdue. We recommend that everypony bring their own saddlebags but, as a service to the public, we –“

“My public?”

“…Yes, your public,” she clarified. “We offer earth ponies, pegasi, and underage patrons an initial free set of saddle bags especially designed for carrying books. If you need an additional set, it…will….”

The bureaucrat trailed off as Stasis levitated the books himself and began trotting for the door. Bureaucrats were just as boring as he had been told.

Stasis went straight home. He peeked inside the house, saw that Star Swirl was not in the living room, and swiftly dashed upstairs with his prize, stuffing the books under his mattress. Star Swirl thought he was clever, checking under Stasis’ bed from time to time for contraband. Stasis still stuck some of his less-egregious finds under there from time to time to let the old wizard feel good about himself, but really Stasis’ new super-special secret spot was under the mattress. Stasis had tried to get Major to stick his stuff under Major’s mattress instead, since Major’s parents seemed to trust him so much, but the orange pony was always recalcitrant about that kind of thing.

With that particular source of changeling-knowledge disposed of, Stasis paused and considered his situation. The only real proof of his changelingicity was his own body, and that was secreted away behind his masque. Right now Stasis needed to figure out how much Pierce knew, and how much he suspected. Maybe this was only a passing suspicion of the earth pony’s, a sort of…hobby. Other ponies read books, or tended gardens, or collected bits, and maybe Pierce just liked to be suspicious of creatures who were clearly biological ponies.

Faintly, Stasis heard a knock downstairs. It was Major’s knock. Stasis swiftly dashed downstairs to the living room, but somehow Star Swirl had made it to the front door ahead of him.

“Come in, lad, come in,” said the old wizard. “The other one’s been upstairs and quiet for far too long. Get him out of here before he does something that I’ll regret.”

“Okay!” Major exclaimed.

Star Swirl leaned close to the orange pony and slipped something out of his cape, whispering, “And here’s a cookie. There’s another one in it for you if you can keep him out of my beard until dinnertime.”

“Hey!” Stasis called out, indignant. If Star Swirl was into bribing, why didn’t he just bribe Stasis directly? It would take more than just one cookie, though. A lot more.

Star Swirl looked back, eyebrows raised in astonishment. “Well, goodness. I had no idea you were right there, lad. I must be slipping up in my old age.”

Stasis glared at the old wizard as he trotted up to his companion.

“Where were you?” he demanded. “You’ve been gone forever!” Truthfully, he had just about forgotten about Major while he was gallivanting around town, dealing with spectral siblings, rigorous rivals, and boring bureaucrats. Still, that didn’t excuse his companion’s poor behavior.

“Oh, sorry, Stasis. Goldie and I were doing all kinds of fun things. We got doughnuts, and played jump-rope in the park, and we talked about you, and…well, she didn’t really have a whole lot of nice things to say, but I told her that –“

“Stop!” Stasis yelled.

“Huh?” said Major, cookie halfway to his mouth.

“I wanted that cookie,” Stasis explained.

Major dutifully broke the cookie in half and handed one piece to Stasis.

Stasis stared at it for a few moments.

“Is something the matter?” asked Major.

“Well, I kind of wanted the whole cookie,” Stasis explained.

Major looked at his cookie-half, and then at Stasis. He slowly began to pull the pastry out of the little changeling’s reach.

“Oh, for Celestia’s sake…” said Star Swirl, pulling another cookie out of his cape, breaking it in half, and giving one half each to pony and changeling.

As they sat and chewed their pastries, Stasis looked at Major’s suspiciously. He was sure that Major’s halves were bigger than his halves.

The sugar rush must have sparked something in Stasis’ mind, because he had an idea. “Hey,” he said to his companion, precious crumbs spilling from his mouth as he masticated and communicated at the same time. “Do you know where Crimson lives?”

“Do I!” Major mumbled around his half-chewed cookie-bite. “I knopf where everypony liffs.”

Within a few minutes, the two best companions found themselves in front of an empty, grass-covered lot. Well, not completely empty; there was a lone mailbox standing vigil by the street.

“Are you sure that this is the right place?” Stasis asked. “I mean, Crimson’s family must be the poorest of the poor to only be able to afford a little patch of grass like this. You’d think that they’d at least plant some trees or something. My family doesn’t have all the fancy stuff that you Trottinghammers do, but even they don’t just live out on the grass like…like…grasshoppers or something. And where do they put all their stuff? Don’t all ponies around here have stuff? And…um….”

Stasis paused as Major walked up and pulled a little cord attached to the mailbox. A second later, Stasis could hear a tinkling sound coming from high above. Looking up, he saw a huge cloud mansion floating above the city. It seemed odd that he hadn’t noticed that before.

“See, Stasis, when you pull this little cord it pulls this thin little string which rings some bells and –“

“Yeah, Major, I get it,” Stasis said crossly. At least it was Major here with him and not Star Swirl; Star Swirl never let him forget things like this.

“Anyway, Major, here’s the plan,” he continued. “I’m going to talk to Crimson while you keep a look out for Pierce. If you see Pierce, then tell me quick so that we can flee. Okay?”

“Sure,” Major said. He used to ask questions about stuff like this. Not so much anymore.

A few moments later, Crimson herself hovered next to the two companions. Stasis realized his mistake a bare moment before she reached for him.

“Wait!” he called out, shrinking back. “Take Major instead!”

Shrugging, Crimson had to land to pick up the much bigger colt. Major looked deeply content, sitting in her lap like that. Stasis just hoped that he remembered to stay on the look-out.

“So, Crimson…” he began. “What’s up?”

She shrugged. “I don’t know. Just doing some chores. What’s up with you?”

Well, actually, I was hoping that you could help me thwart your coltfriend’s plans and once more grind his self-esteem into dust, he thought. He didn’t say that out loud though.

“Nothing,” he said instead. “I was just taking Major for a walk, and since we were passing by your…huge…cloud…house…thing, I thought that maybe I’d drop by and ask how you were doing.”

“Well, that’s very sweet of you, Stasis,” she said softly. “I’m doing very well. I’ve actually been resting up for a competition back in Cloudsdale next week, and I want to be in tip-top shape for the –“

“I was actually wondering about Pierce,” Stasis interjected quickly. He was not Crimson’s coltfriend, and felt himself under no obligation to listen to her talk about the bajillion-and-one things that fillies liked to talk about.

“What about him?” Crimson said, fetching a bonbon from somewhere and giving it to Major. Stasis frowned.

“I was just wondering how he’s doing. You know…he’s so quiet and solitary all the time, I can never figure out what he’s thinking.”

“Oh, don’t I know it,” Crimson said, rolling her eyes. “I mean, I’m no touchy-feely filly, but it’d be nice to know what’s going on in that big head of his, you know? If just every once in a while he’d tell me how he felt –“

“That’s really great, but I was kind of wondering how he felt about me,” Stasis said quickly. He imagined that holding a conversation with this girl felt sort of like channeling a river.

“About you?” Crimson asked, puzzled. “He hasn’t said much to me. Just that he thinks that there’s something wrong with you.”

She caught herself. “I mean, something off. I told him it was just that you were new, and kind of foreign, and, well, a little bit weird I guess, but of course he’s Pierce, eighth-grader extraordinaire, leader of stallions and wooer of mares, and here I am, little-old-Crimson who can’t even –“

“Has he said anything specific?” Stasis interjected.

Crimson gave Major another bonbon. It seemed like every single pony in this entire city had a stash of treats laying around, just waiting to be given to Major while Stasis stood there watching. It was like some sort of cruel, unusual, bonbon-deprivation torture.

They deserved everything that he had ever done to them, that was his opinion.

“He did say that it was weird that you still don’t have your cutie-mark,” she said. “Not that there’s anything wrong with that,” she added hastily. “Lots of ponies are late bloomers. Nopony in my family, or anypony that I know, but I’ve heard stories of ponies who were in the double-digits before they got their cutie-marks. Maybe you should try some new things? Like long-distance cantering or something.”

“Hey!” Major said. “Goldie doesn’t have her mark either! We should form a club!”

“No, that’s stupid,” Stasis said, who actually thought that Goldie was stupid. “Anyway, you’ve already got your mark.”

“Oh…yeah….” Major said, looking dejected.

Turning his attention back to Crimson, he said, “Well, thanks for your help, I guess. Don’t tell Pierce that we were asking about him though; it’d probably just make him more suspicious. I don’t want to hurt our relationship.”

She winked. “Don’t worry; your secret’s safe with me.” She put Major down, and the two companions trotted off.

“Goodbye, Stasis! Goodbye, Major! Drop by again sometime!”

Stasis let Major give their goodbye’s; he was thinking about cutie-marks.

Star Swirl

Stasis considered the issue of cutie-marks carefully. They might seem like mere hindquarterly symbols that indicated one’s greatest power, but now that he faced the prospect of inventing one for himself, he found that he was unsure that he could fake one convincingly. These weren’t mere changelings that he was trying to fool here, these were the ponies themselves; if he wanted to live amongst them unhindered, his masque had to be flawless.

What he needed right now was more information. He needed to talk to a true expert, to somepony who actually had a cutie-mark and who could peel away the layers of ignorance and misinformation surrounding these mysterious harbingers of destiny.

“Major!” he called.

“That’s me!” Major affirmed.

“I want to ask you about your cutie-mark.”

Major paused at the street corner and looked at Stasis curiously.

“What about it?”

“Well…first…is your cutie-mark really a suit?” he asked, pointing at what appeared to be a black suit-and-tie that was inscribed across the orange colt’s hindquarters. He had always sort of assumed that it only looked like a suit, but was actually something fun and exciting. He’d never bothered to ask about it, though, mostly from a lack of caring.

Major observed his cutie-mark critically. “I think so, Stasis. That’s sure what it looks like to me.”

“How’d you get it?” Stasis asked. It was his understanding that one always had to do something to get one’s cutie-mark; you couldn’t just let them grow in like you could missing teeth or limbs, as convenient as that would have been.

Major sat down on his haunches and took on the well-versed tone of a storyteller. “Well, years and years and years ago, my mom and my dad and me all went on a special trip to visit my grandparents in Everfree City. They’re actually my mom’s parents, not my dad’s parents, and it was the first I’d ever seen them in my whole life. I think maybe that’s because they’re so very far away and because they don’t really like my dad very much; they don’t really like ponies who don’t make much money, you know, and they were really upset for a long time when Mom ran away and married Dad. I guess I kinda take offense to them a little, because I really like my dad and –“

“Cutie-mark.”

“Huh? Oh. Um…yeah, so, we went to this really fancy restaurant to eat really fancy food. It’s kind of weird, how the only ponies who eat snails are really poor ponies and really rich ponies. But it was okay, because my grandparents were paying for it, since we couldn’t afford to, and…um…I’m not actually supposed to talk about that kind of thing. I think it kind of makes Dad feel bad, and Mom too, especially when –“

“Cutie-mark.”

“Uh…right. So, we were eating all this fancy food that was really expensive and nasty, but there were these waiters there who dressed up in these fancy black suits and they were just really good at waitering. I mean, they weren’t anything like the waiters you see around here, who don’t wear any clothes at all and spit in your food if you don’t tip them enough. I don’t think these waiters ever spit in their entire lives. It’s not very hygienic, you know, to be spitting –“

“Major!” Stasis snapped. “Summer’s burning! Just skip to the part where you get your cutie-mark.”

Major rubbed the back of his neck with one hoof. “Yeah, well, I told my grandparents that one day I wanted to be like those waiters, and they didn’t seem very happy about that, but after dinner Mom talked to them for a while as Dad took me to see the castle where the princesses live, even though it was too late for visitors. When we went back, my grandparents took me to the fanciest store that I’ve ever seen, and they had another pony in a suit measure me, and then the next day when it was time for dinner they gave me a gift just like you’d get on your birthday, except it wasn’t my birthday, and inside was a fancy suit just like the ones that that waiters had worn at the restaurant the other night, except it was more me-sized.”

“Is that when you got your cutie-mark?”

“Well, no, I haven’t got to that part yet.”

Stasis put his face in his hooves. The immortal little changeling was going to die of old age before Major finished his story.

“You see, my grandpa isn’t really a lord, but he’s sort of like a lord, because he has a bunch of money and a few servants, and normally those servants fix the food and serve the food, but that night I was going to get to serve the food, all by myself! Mom gave me a bath and helped me into my suit and put this weird gel-stuff into my mane and then brought me downstairs for dinner. I did a really good job, too, and Grandma and Grandpa kept saying nice things about how professional how I looked and how good I was doing, and Mom kept making this gasping noise every time I almost dropped one of the big, heavy, fancy plates and Dad kept on patting her on the back and making her drink water. But I didn’t drop anything, and Grandma and Grandpa were very proud, and I guess it was sometime around then that I got my cutie-mark because everypony got very excited and all the servants were called in and everypony was talking at once, and then we had to call a doctor because Mom had fainted and fallen on the floor.”

Stasis frowned. “So…your destiny is…to wear a suit?”

Major smiled. “You know, that’s what I thought, and I was very excited, but Dad says that I’m probably supposed to serve ponies since I really like being helpful and making ponies happy.”

“Your destiny is to be a servant?” Stasis asked, aghast. Worst. Destiny. Ever.

“Yeah!” Major exclaimed. “I could be a waiter, or a page, or even a butler! Wouldn’t that be cool, Stasis? I could be a butler at a lord’s house in Everfree City and be in charge of all the maids and pages and make sure that the silverware was clean and the food was good and the servants were happy and everything just like a…just like a…um…just like a butler!” he finished, exultant.

“Is it really permanent?” Stasis asked, reaching over and rubbing Major’s mark.

“You’re not supposed to touch other ponies there, Stasis,” Major explained patiently.

Stasis withdrew his hoof. Major’s cutie-mark seemed stuck on there pretty good, anyhow.

“Isn’t there anypony you can talk to about this? Celestia, maybe? Can you order a replacement cutie-mark?”

Major was staring at his hindquarters admiringly. “Well, I don’t think so, Stasis. Anyway, I like my cutie-mark. Sometimes, though, I do wish I could change my name…you know, to something starting with a ‘t.’ Doesn’t my cutie-mark sort of look like a capital ‘t?’ Wouldn’t it be cool if my name started with a capital ‘t,’ too? Something like ‘Timberwolf,’ or ‘Tapioca,’ or…or…’Tajor.’ Wouldn’t it be cool if my name were Tajor, Stasis?”

Stasis figured that, if he didn’t want to end up as somepony’s butler, he’d probably better learn more about cutie-marks elsewhere.

* * *

Stasis stared at his belly. It was strange, how full it was of potaters, yet how empty his head was of ideas for cutie-marks. He supposed it was better than a head full of potaters and a belly full of nothing, but that was about the best spin he could put on his present situation.

The problem wasn’t just Pierce and his apparent anti-changeling paranoia, as if that wasn’t enough. The whole ‘blank-flank’ thing had started to get to him. Of course, hardly any ponies dared to call him that outside the sanctity of their own heads anymore…the ones who did, he dealt with in the same fashion he had dealt with the younger, weaker would-be bullies of his own family: with immeasurable, disproportionate retaliation. Dead things were put in desks, dire warnings were inscribed in bathroom stalls, scandalous rumors were spread. Unfortunately, Pierce had cowed most of the bullies before Stasis had even arrived in Trottingham, leaving him with few somewhat-socially-acceptable targets. Stupid Pierce.

No, it just bothered him to see how everypony else had a cutie-mark, and he did not. Back with his family, his hindquarters were considered the epitome of changelinghood, much as every other part of him. Now, they just seemed…blank. His masque made him look just like any other dark-grey yellow-eyed little unicorn pony, and he wasn’t used to being ‘ordinary,’ nor did he like it. He didn’t like it at all.

Of course, giving himself a cutie-mark was the easiest thing in the world, once he understood the lore surrounding them sufficiently well. He just had picture it, think the right spell, channel his magic, and ‘poof!’ Destiny solved.

But what should his mark actually look like? His siblings had it easy: when they infiltrated, they just copied the cutie-mark of the pony they replaced. In the rare event that they, like Stasis, had to invent their own persona, they usually made it as generic as possible, complete with a run-of-the-mill cutie-mark of apples or hammers or couches or something of that nature, something that was on the backsides of many thousands of ponies and wouldn’t draw any attention whatsoever.

Stasis, though, was special. Even as a faux-pony, many Equestrians had told him that he was special, and he felt that his faux-mark should reflect that specialness. Even leaving his hindquarters bare before the world was better than marring it with stupid fruit or furniture or suits or whatever.

So what mark would adequately represent who he was and what he was good at? He pondered. He pondered and pondered and pondered, his brain throwing up one inadequate image after another for his contemplation. He found himself growing angry with his imagination’s uselessness; he might as well have filled his head with potaters and thought with his stomach, for all the good it was doing him. Just as he was about to throw up his hooves in disgust, an image began to form in his mind’s eye….

…An image of him sitting proud atop a throne of lawn trimmings, the bodies of his enemies lying strewn about him like some freakish display of giant black-and-blue lawn gnomes. In his right hoof he held shears; in his left, a mower. Atop his head was a blood-red Frisbee, formed into the shape of a crown, and upon his breast was a chain of potaters, one for each of his many, many plantations. At his hooves Goldie and Abra lay prostrate, holding before them platters laden high with cookies and doughnuts in supplication. Beneath his outstretched right wing was his chancellor, Major, dutifully recording the offering of Stasis’ subjects and weighing it against their many sins against him. Beneath his left was Star Swirl, whose normal attire was sufficient for him to play the roles of both royal magician and jester beautifully, his feats of teleportation and magic-bubble-making drawing travelers to Stasis’ court from all-the-world-over.

“Bwahahaha!”

Star Swirl, ensconced behind a wall of books and arcana, looked at Stasis from across the room.

“You alright, lad?”

“Bwahahahahahahaha!”

Star Swirl shook his head and turned back to his books.

Of course, there might be such a thing as having too special a cutie-mark. Stasis wasn’t even sure if the ponies could handle a mark as special as the one he had just imagined.

Maybe he should pick a mark that was a little more…general. He tried to think of all the things he was good at and liked to do.

…Well, he liked to trick ponies, and take their stuff, and make fun of them both before and behind their backs. He also liked to beat them up, whether individually or in groups, although he didn’t do that as much these days for fear of vengeful wizards. And one of his favorite targets was various ponies’ self-esteem; he really enjoyed reminding them that they were all really just stupid ponies anyway, since they were so apt to forget.

Now, what did all these things have in common? Stasis tried to connect the dots.

…Hmm. I wonder if there is a cutie-mark for wickedness? He tried to imagine what that would look like. Maybe it would just be a picture of his face. Would that be weird, to have a picture of his face on his butt?

…

…Yes.

“Lad?” called a voice gruffly from across the room.

“Huh?” Stasis asked irritably. It was just like Star Swirl to interrupt him when he was so close to cognitive victory.

Star Swirl stood up slowly, his joints audibly popping. “Time to do the dishes, lad. Come on.”

“What? Why?” He had been hoping that Star Swirl wouldn’t remember the dishes until right after he had sent Stasis to bed. It seemed only just. Stasis wasn’t overly fond of justice, but in this case he felt that it would actually work in his favor.

“’Why?’” Star Swirl repeated. “Remember how you once told me that Miss Brighten said that there’s no such thing as a stupid question?”

“Yeah?”

“She’s wrong. Now stop your scheming and come help me.”

Stasis grumbled under his breath as he followed the slow old pony into the kitchen. By now he had helped wash dishes so many times that he barely even had to think about it. He began rinsing dishes as Star Swirl passed them to him, his body going through the motions while he considered his problem.

“Lad?”

Stasis paused his drying of a plate, startled. They were already partway through the dishes; a small mound of them was to his right, already finished. He’d barely noticed.

“What are you thinking about, lad? You’re going at it pretty hard, even for you.”

Stasis thought for a few moments more. If anypony knew anything about something, it was probably Star Swirl. Stasis supposed there was no harm in telling the old wizard the truth.

…Well, something in the general vicinity of the truth, anyway.

“I was just thinking about cutie-marks,” he admitted. “I’m probably seven years old by now, and I still don’t have mine. I was just wondering what it would be.”

“Hmm….” Star Swirl said. “Well, that’s actually a pretty normal thing for a pony your age to think about.” He sounded surprised.

“Yeah, well, maybe for a pony a year or two younger than me to think about,” Stasis grumbled bitterly. “I need to get mine soon, and if it’s going to accurately reflect my personality, it needs to be better than everypony else’s, too.” He shook his head sadly. “I’m under a lot of pressure.”

“I can’t even imagine,” Star Swirl replied. Stasis was glad that he understood.

They continued their work for a few more moments. Things seemed to be slipping back into an amiable silence, but Stasis wasn’t quite ready for that yet. Now that the old wizard had broached the subject, now was as good a time as any to learn more.

“Hey, Star Swirl?” he began. “You have a cutie-mark, right?”

The big old pony gave the little changeling a skeptical look. “What, are you thinking of taking it for yourself? Thinking you’ll steal into old Star Swirl’s bed in the middle of the night and make off with his cutie-mark when he isn’t looking?”

“Of course not!” Stasis exclaimed, indignant. “I already tried something like that with Major’s cutie-mark, anyway. I don’t think that I could get it off without you waking up.”

Star Swirl paused his washing and rubbed his forehead a little. He seemed to do that a lot when he was talking to Stasis for some reason.

After a few moments, Star Swirl looked down at Stasis while he resumed his chore.

“I never did show you my cutie-mark, did I, lad?” he said with uncharacteristic non-gruffness.

“No. I’ve never seen you without your hat and cape before. I figured that maybe you had sworn some kind of secret wizardly oath never to walk around in the nude or something,” Stasis admitted.

Sometimes, when he was in bed and supposed to be sleeping, he thought about these things.

“…An interesting idea, but no,” Star Swirl replied. “Here, I’ll show you.”

Stasis swiftly took a step back as the old wizard levitated his cape away from his body. Whatever fantasies he had had of freakish mutations, extra limbs, or vulgar tattoos were soon dashed; under the cape, Star Swirl looked just like any other wrinkly old pony, his skin seeming somehow slightly too loose for his body and his bones showing clearly underneath. Of course, Stasis’ attention was soon drawn to Star Swirl’s cutie-mark – a boring set of grey stars set about a boring grey swirl. It went quite well with his boring grey fur and boring grey personality.

“Is that it?” Stasis asked. “I thought it would be something more exciting.”

Star Swirl cocked an eyebrow. “Well, goodness, lad. Don’t hold back for my sake. Let me know how you really feel.”

“Huh?”

Star Swirl shook his head. “Not everypony’s got the flashiest cutie-mark, lad, but it’s what the mark means that’s important.” He sighed. “I remember when I got mine…I was so excited! I was never a vain one, but for the next week Ma kept heckling me for staring at it in the bathroom mirror when I was supposed to be doing my homework. I took the little one out of her purse – you know, the ones the ladies use to put on their makeup? – and I started using it instead, and she had Pa give me a paddling for that one. It was worth it, though. You only ever get your cutie-mark once; no way I was going to do homework when I could be staring at my destiny instead.”

The old pony sighed. “Of course, Principle had gotten his mark seven years before, and when he saw that mine was in magic, he was not happy. I didn’t know it at the time, of course – being only just turned six – but he was jealous as –“

“Wait, who?”

Star Swirl blinked. “Principal? My brother?”

“Your what?”

“My brother, lad. Maybe you’ve met him? He runs your school, was teaching your magic class for a while there. Sends me nasty little notes in the mail every time you give it a bad reputation, which is nigh-on every day, seems like.”

“Principal Principal is your brother?” Stasis asked, aghast.

Star Swirl sighed. “Aye, lad, he is. We’ve had some problems, him and I, and it mostly started back when I got my cutie-mark. Most ponies back home figured that I’d really make something of myself with a magic cutie-mark, but since it’d be somewhere far away, they just shrugged it off – not much for a professional wizard to do way up north, anyway. But Principal, though…he just didn’t seem to like the idea of me outshining him. That’s as far as I can figure it, anyways.”

He shook his head. “Anyway…what was I saying? Oh, right. Well, Principal was already pretty well respected in Tall Tale – that’s my hometown, by the way – and I was seen as a bit of a rebel at the time.”

“…Are you sure?” Stasis asked the pony who was always wanting to paddle him for every little thing.

“Aye, lad, I’m sure. Up north, ponies were always a bit more into tradition than they are down here. Maybe it’s because they’re so much farther from the capitol, but they sort of see themselves as separate from the rest of the country, I suppose, and they hold onto their traditions tight.”

“And you don’t?” Stasis asked.

“Well, I didn’t see anything wrong with them traditions…I would just rather study my books than worry about wearing the right clothes to the right occasions, or celebrating the million-and-one holidays and festivals we had up in Tall Tale. I did wish that we had cute-ceanaras in Tall Tale, though. It was still seen as a southern invention – probably still is, for all I know – and not celebrating it was a sort of spit-in-the-eye to all those uppity southerners.”

“Northern ponies don’t like southern ponies?” Stasis asked. He had always just pictured Equestria as one huge mash of pastels, mixed about until it reached a smooth, creamy, brown consistency. Sort of like peanut butter. The idea that it might be chunky peanut butter had never even occurred to him.

“Well, if by ‘southern’ you mean everything south of Tall Tale, and by ‘northern’ you mean everything north of Tall Tale but south of the Crystal Kingdom…then aye, we’re not big friends. Doubt these southerners know that, though; most of them hardly would have even heard of Tall Tale if it weren’t for me being from there.”

“They don’t like the princesses either?” Stasis asked. That was hard to imagine; even the ponies out west usually loved the princesses, since the princesses were ponies and not changelings or gryphons or minotaurs or any of the other things that were often trying to kill and possibly eat them, not necessarily in that order.

Star Swirl shook his head. “No, we love the princesses. Back during the Reign, we were about the only region south of the northern wastes that still put up any resistance at all…not that it did any good, of course. But when the princesses came, we were the first to join up against Discord. Not that that did any good, either, not against him, but we’re still proud of it. And we’re still upset that the princesses chose to build their capitol down in the Everfree instead of up there with us. The fact that we were about as far from the center of the country as you could get didn’t change our minds about that. Still, you can ask any good northerner, and he’ll tell you that over a thousand years later, the north still supplies more royal guardsponies per capita than any other part of Equestria. We protect our princesses, even if we feel a bit ignored most of the time.”

“You’re not ignored,” Stasis pointed out.

Star Swirl sighed. “No, I’m not, though sometimes I wish I was. Many of my kin don’t consider me a ‘real’ northerner anymore, anyhow, now that I’ve spent most of my life down here. Or if they do, they only do it to show up ‘them southerners.’ But that’s neither here nor there….”

They were both silent for a few moments as they did the dishes, Stasis considering these revelations, Star Swirl thinking about whatever it was he thought about.

Finally, Star Swirl continued, “Anyway, lad, I was trying to tell you about my cutie-mark. You see, even at six years old, I was already starting to get a bit of a reputation in our small town for not always doing what I was supposed to do. Principal, though, he was about as respected as a thirteen-year-old gets. Always did what was expected, never complained, never tried to get out of anything. Not as popular amongst kids his own age, of course, but that just made the adults like him all the more. I used to think that Principal was the first child since the founding of Tall Tale that didn’t have the citizenry up-at-arms about the corruption of our youth.”

Star Swirl shook his head. “Problem was, Principal was always a bright, bright lad, much like myself, and once he learned that my talent was in magic, somehow he just knew what that meant. Not many ponies get such a general and useful talent, and I guess with all the booksmarts I already had, he just figured that I’d end up superseding him somehow.”

He turned and looked the little changeling in the eye. “Not that having a special talent in administration is bad, mind you – probably better than most, at least as far as popularity goes – but he already knew he was never going to be famous. So when I got my mark and ponies started muttering about me maybe trying for the Royal Academy for Gifted Unicorns, he turned colder and nastier than a pair of snot-cicles.”

“A pair of what?” Stasis asked, confused.

“…If you lived up north, you’d understand. The point is, well, he’d never paid much attention to me before, but now he was downright hostile. I learned pretty quick to avoid him as much as I could, else he’d somehow twist the simplest response around into something hurtful.”

“Did your mother or father do anything about it?” Stasis queried. Any of his siblings who didn’t get along quickly learned to avoid each other; fighting for fun or training was one thing, but Mother did not tolerate anything that would cause disharmony in her family.

Star Swirl shrugged. “Principal was never the kind of fellow to hit you with hooves when words would do just as well, and as long as it never came to blows, Ma and Pa wouldn’t usually pay it any mind. Pa was a farmer and Ma was a farmer’s wife; worse yet, Ma had stopped having kids after the second one, and it was already clear that neither of us were going to be very good farmers ourselves. That meant that they didn’t have time or energy to waste dealing with every little problem we had; it was the best they could do to make sure we had bread on the table and clothes for when the winter blizzards came.”

Stasis frowned. Of course, Star Swirl’s parents didn’t have hundreds of children to help them…but they didn’t have hundreds of children to raise, either. They only had two. Ever. They were probably just being lazy.

“Anyway, I think everypony was surprised when Principal just upped and left. He was only fifteen at the time – we aren’t as sentimental about childhood as ponies down here are, he was already considered an adult – and everypony had figured that he’d end up spending his whole life in Tall Tale, like most do, and be an ‘upstanding pillar in the community’ and all that. Heck, I’m pretty sure the only one happy to see him go besides myself was old Butterbur, our teacher and principal, who probably soiled himself the day Principal got his cutie-mark.”

“You were glad that your brother left?” Stasis asked, shocked. That was one-hundred percent of Star Swirl’s siblings, gone!

Star Swirl shrugged. “Aye…I guess I was, at least for a little while. I thought things would be better after he left. Now I could go about the house without him scowling at me, or criticizing my work ethic, or saying that I wasn’t doing enough to help Ma and Pa, or whatever else he could think of.”

Star Swirl quickly scoured a pot and levitated it over to Stasis. “But if I thought that having him gone would solve my problems, I was wrong. I still didn’t really feel like I fit in with the rest of the town, and now the old house just felt kind of…empty. Ma and Pa were still there, but now they just looked more tired and wore-down than ever. Every Sunday, ponies at church would ask them when were they finally going to send me to the Royal Academy, and so they’d been asking me to do less and less chores around the farm, pushing me to work on my homework instead. Now that Principal was gone, though, if I left, that would leave them there all alone.”

Star Swirl passed the last dish over to be rinsed, and sighed. “It’s funny…Principal left when he was fifteen, but I didn’t finally go until I was seventeen. If I’d waited any later, I might not have been able to get into the Academy at all…as it was, I’d long since read every single book even remotely magic-related that our little library had to offer, and pretty much every moment I had that wasn’t spent reading was spent working odd-jobs around town so that I could get more money to have books shipped in from the capitol. Some of the nicer folks in town even gave me ‘book-money,’ as they called it, so that I could buy some of the more advanced texts, which cost quite a bundle.

“But on my seventeenth birthday, after Ma and Pa and I had had a little cake – I didn’t really have any friends, I’m afraid, I was just too different, too busy – my Pa took me out to a quiet place on the farm, next to a little apple-tree he’d planted the day I got my cutie-mark, and he told me it was time for me to leave. Didn’t matter where I went, he said…so long as I left.”

“What did you do?” Stasis asked, quickly wiping down the last dish with a dry cloth so that he could listen to the story.

Star Swirl shrugged. “I packed my things and left. If I didn’t have so many gosh-darned books, I would have left that evening. As it was, Pa let me have his rickety old carriage…I put my books inside and saddled up. Before I could get very far, though, Ma, bless her heart, came galloping up with some food and water for me to take. I knew I’d forgotten something.

“Took me a month to get to Everfree City. Shouldn’t have taken so long, not for a farmer’s son…but like I said, I hardly helped out around the farm at all by then – most of my odd jobs were with bookkeeping and clerking and whatnot – and I was out of shape, and probably not in as much of a hurry as I should have been. I was also far too careful, always taking my carriage out of sight of the road long before dark, and not sleeping very well, I was so afraid that bandits would come and hurt me and steal my little library. Seems I’d read a few too many histories; thieves might have thrived for a little while after the Reign was over and things were still getting back to normal, but the princesses don’t take too kindly to criminals, if you haven’t heard.

“Anyway….” Star Swirl looked Stasis in the eye again. “You know, it’s funny, but can you believe that I didn’t actually know just how good I was at magic until I got to Everfree City? Of course, back home everypony knew that I was the best magic-user in town. It was just kind of a given, with my special talent being magic and all. But excellent magicians are nothing special at the Royal Academy for Gifted Unicorns, and when I went in to take the entrance exams – which have a ninety-percent failure rate for first-time applicants, by the way – you could just see it in the examiners’ eyes: ‘Oh, great, another country bumpkin from some podunk-town who thinks he knows magic.’ Keep in mind, too, that I was already seventeen – the entrance exams for me were as tough as they could get. Almost nopony gets in that late.

“Well, I passed the written exams without any trouble, but I was kind of expecting that. Lots of ponies pass the written exams. It’s the part where you’ve got to do the actual magic that kills you. And when they pulled me into the room with those examiners, I was so scared, you wouldn’t believe. You see, I didn’t have any backup plans – I didn’t have an ‘exit strategy’ or whatever you want to call it. If I failed these exams, I was toast. I couldn’t go back home, I’d already spent what little money I had so there was no way I could afford to stay anyplace, I had no really useful skills except magic – and not the regular, down-to-earth blacksmithing-and-dressmaking-and-house-building magic that most unicorns know, but the ‘pure,’ theoretical magic that isn’t worth squat unless you can finish your education and get a position in a university or guild.

“And I swear to this day, the chief examiner had in it for me from the get-go. The other two just looked bored, but he had this look on his face and a lilt to his voice like I was challenging him something-personal just by being there. Plus, the examiners get just about as much leeway as they could want in the magic part of the exam – they can ask you to do as many strange and unusual things as they want, as long as it’s magic-related, and if you can’t, you fail. Being on the examiner’s good side – say, having your daddy’s name on the new dormitory – means that your test will probably only be hard. Having the chief examiner ticked off with you, though…well, that’s not the kind of place that you want to be. ”

The wizard shifted position, stretching his back slightly. “Anyway, lad, the point is: I was scared stiff. They started off pretty easy – they asked me to teleport. A very tricky, even dangerous spell, and most unicorns never bother to learn it – but I’d done my first teleport when I was nine, and I’d expected them to ask me to do it at some point. I ‘ported across the room a few times quickly enough, but I could tell they were just warming up.

“So –“

“Can you teach me to teleport?” Stasis interrupted. It was a question he’d asked many, many times before, but Star Swirl had always told him that he wasn’t allowed to learn any spells that would help him to evade capture.

This time, though, the old wizard shifted uncomfortably and was quiet for a few moments. Finally, he sighed and said, “That’s not the kind of spell you can learn in one evening, lad. And you’re only seven years old – you don’t need to be in such a gosh-darned hurry all the time.”

“I can learn complicated spells!” Stasis protested, thinking of the phase-spell. That one had been extremely hard, but he was very proud of it, even if he’d been forced to swear not to tell anyling from whom he’d learned it. (Mother also didn’t like it when Stasis learned spells that helped him evade capture.)

Star Swirl grunted. “I’ll think about it…but only if you don’t interrupt anymore. You’re messing up my narrative.

“Anyway, where was I? Oh, right. So I did the first spell without any trouble. Next, they asked me to lift the biggest number of the heaviest things that I could.

“Now, there was actually a bunch of iron balls of all-different sizes lined up on a desk behind me…but you know how when you’re really, really nervous, your brain just sort of shuts down? I hadn’t even noticed those balls – I’d barely been able take my eyes off those examiners since I walked in the room, actually. I guess it’s no surprise, then, that I quickly decided on the heaviest things I could think of – there’s a time element to these tests, you know – and I lifted all three examiners, and their chairs, and their desk, and all the things on their desk right up, about five lengths into the air.”

“Did you get in trouble?” Stasis asked, eyes wide.

“Well, it didn’t make them like me any better, I can tell you that. They yelled at me so loud, I darn-nearly dropped ‘em. That’s something of a disqualification, you know, breaking the legs on all your examiners. But I did manage to get them back on the ground, gently as I could, and they didn’t say anything else about it. Of course, I didn’t know at the time that most ponies – even most magicians – can’t lift three of their fellows plus a huge solid oak desk plus a bunch of chairs and things into the air at the same time, and those examiners weren’t about to tell me. None of them were yawning anymore, though, I can tell you that.

“Now they started hitting me hard and fast with spells, all three of them, so fast that I lost count. I was frantic, casting spells so quickly my horn was starting to throw sparks. I made a cloud, I walked on a cloud, I sprouted wings, I flew with wings. I blasted a hole through a quarter-inch of plate steel with pure thaumaturgical energy, and then I patched it up again, good as new.

“The more spells I cast, the crazier the examiners seemed to get, sometimes all three asking me to cast different spells at the same time. It felt like hours, but it was probably only ten or twenty minutes before I was so exhausted, I was seriously afraid that I might die right there in the examination room. That’s happened before, you know, although the examiners are usually pretty good at halting you before things get that bad. In this case, though, the more exhausted I got, the more it just seemed to egg them on.

“Finally, the other two literally seemed to have just run out of things to ask, and looked about ready to pass me. The chief, though, he just wasn’t having it. He thought for a minute or two, and then he got this sly look on his face, and he took off this little lead pendant he had about his neck and asked me to turn it to gold.

“Now, I had spent almost all of my life learning nearly every spell I could get my hooves on, but nowhere had I even heard of a spell for transmuting lead into gold. I was frantic; I had no idea what to do. I was sure they were going to fail me.

“Well, the other two examiners looked about as surprised as I did, but the chief just smiled and told me to take my time, like he was sure I couldn’t do it no matter how long they gave me. So, I took a few moments to calm down and get to thinking. I’m not sure how long I was there thinking – time gets all messed up when you’re working on a new spell, or at least it does for me – and I put all the different transmutation spells I knew together in my head, picked ‘em apart, and tried to imagine what I would need to do in order to make this new spell. I also cast a few little ‘feeler’ spells on the pendant, trying to get the ‘feel’ for the lead.

Star Swirl gave Stasis a serious expression. “Now, making a new spell is a totally different business from casting one you already know. Casting a spell mostly requires talent; any unicorn can do that, given enough time and raw power. Crafting a new spell, though…that requires skill. Lots and lots of skill. And generally lots and lots of time, as well; usually at least a few days, even for a simple spell. The most complex spells can take years, or longer. A lot of ponies seem to think that professional wizards just go around setting off magic fireworks and turning water into apple cider and whatnot, but those are just parlor tricks. Only stage magicians do that for a living. Real wizards make their bread and butter either by researching specific aspects of magic, or by using that research to invent new spells – sometimes useful spells, sometimes simply interesting spells, but always new spells.

Star Swirl snorted. “Of course, I’d been making new spells off and on ever since I got my cutie-mark…I just didn’t expect to have to do it for the test, and especially something tricky like a full-on metal-to-metal transmutation. But I guess I was just too tired to be nervous anymore; after a few minutes I asked one of the examiners to let me borrow her gold earrings, and I used some spells to get the ‘feel’ for that too. Again, I’ve got no idea how long I was just sitting there, thinking, while those examiners were quieter than the dead, but after a while I just thought, ‘to heck with it,’ and I cast what I thought was the right spell. It wasn’t. I dispelled it, made a correction, recast it. Dispelled it, corrected it, recast it. Probably had to do that two or three more times real quick before I got it right. Gave the chief examiner back his pendant, now the prettiest yellow that you ever saw.”

Star Swirl chuckled. “Of course, like most transmutations, it would only stay that way for a little while. Turning one thing into another permanently is darn-near impossible. If it wasn’t, we unicorns could just fire all the earthpony and pegasi craftsmen and artisans and let them tell us how wonderful we are and fix us breakfast-in-bed while we did all the real work. Still, for a few minutes, nopony but another wizard could tell that that pendant was anything but truest gold.”

“Did you pass?” Stasis asked.

Star Swirl nodded. “Aye, lad, I passed. Even the chief examiner was real quiet when he told me where I could go to put my things. That’s one good thing about the Royal Academy – if you can get in, it’s free.” He paused. “Well, free for the student, anyway. Not so free for the taxpayer. But that’s not the point.

“As it was, I spent the next however-long just wandering about the campus, going from building to building, never heading inside.”

“Were you lost?” Stasis asked. He still found the big pony-town with all its ‘roads’ and ‘streets’ difficult to navigate from time to time.

Star Swirl laughed. “No, lad, I wasn’t lost. Well, not in the way you’re thinking, anyway. No, I just didn’t really hear anything the examiners said after ‘you passed.’ I didn’t even hear the directions. You have to remember, I had just gone through the most physically and mentally grueling experience of my life – I was so tired, I kind of just forgot where I was, or what I was supposed to be doing. After a while, I even started to hallucinate – I imagined that I could see Princess Celestia, near bright as the sun and twice as pretty, standing there in front of me, talking to me, Star Swirl, country kid who’d never been within a hundred miles of the capitol before in my life.”

“What did you do?” Stasis asked.

Star Swirl leaned down closer to Stasis and said quietly, “I passed out, lad. I passed out hard. And when I woke up the next day, I hurt so bad, I just wanted to pass out again.” He barked a laugh.

“Those three examiners got chewed out, alright – by Princess Celestia. And the pony who’d been sitting there all day and all night to make sure that I was alright? Princess Celestia.”

“Wasn’t Princess Luna there, too?” Stasis asked. He didn’t hear nearly as much about that princess as he did the other one, it seemed like.

Star Swirl shrugged. “It’s called the Royal Academy, but it’s really Celestia’s pet project. I imagine Princess Luna was taking care of affairs of state while her sister was away, meaning that both sisters were probably pretty annoyed with those examiners. And I know there’s a lot of lies and rumors flying around about the royal sisters – always has been, I imagine - but I’ve got to say, lad, from personal experience, ticking-off either of the princesses is not a place you want to be. I’m sure you can imagine.”

Stasis nodded. He didn’t need to imagine what happened when you made a goddess angry.

Star Swirl stroked his beard. “Anyway. Of course, I thought I was still delirious, but Princess Celestia promised me that I wasn’t. And remember, lad, you don’t ever call a royal sister a liar to her face – not even a hallucinated one. So I was real quiet when she explained about how, practically the moment I left the examination room, the princess got three different messages from three different examiners telling her that they had there a pony that they thought she would be very, very interested in. She also explained that there actually wasn’t any spell for turning lead into gold, at least as far as she knew…and odds are, if Celestia doesn’t know about something, it doesn’t exist.”

“So why did they ask you to perform that spell if it didn’t exist?” Stasis asked.

Star Swirl looked him in the eye and smiled. “Same reason that they asked me every spell beyond the fourth or fifth one – they just wanted to see how far they could push me. And if I didn’t have Celestia sitting there by my bedside, smiling like an angel, I probably would have been pretty upset about it, too. As it was, she started asking me questions – nothing difficult this time, just about myself, my interests, my family, my hometown, what I wanted for my life. A few hours later, I think she knew me just about as well as I knew myself – probably better. That’s when she asked me if I wanted to be her student.”

Star Swirl paused, obviously waiting for a response from Stasis, and the little changeling thought for a few moments.

“Does she have a lot of students?” he asked.

“A good question – and no, she doesn’t. Being asked to be her student is something very special indeed. She’s only ever had one at a time, and they are more than just students – in fact, she generally just leaves the academics to the Academy, or some other school. No, she’s more of a mentor than she is a teacher – she gives you advice and guides you through the various trials of your life, using a gentler and gentler hoof until finally one or both of you decide that you’re ready to stand on your own four hooves.”

He stroked his beard again. “In fact…in a way, she’s closer to be being a mother to you than anything else. That’s probably why she almost always chooses extremely intelligent, very gifted young unicorn fillies – I suspect that’s who she can relate to the best. Obviously, though, she does make exceptions – as she did for me.”

“A mother?” Stasis queried.

Star Swirl nodded. “Aye, lad. Neither princess has ever taken a husband for obvious reasons – or reasons that should be obvious, if you think about it – and so, for even more obvious reasons, neither of ‘em has ever had any kids of their own. I don’t know how Luna deals with it, or if she even needs to, but I suspect that taking on ‘students’ is how Celestia copes.”

He wagged a hoof in Stasis’ face. “Don’t you be telling her that I said so, though. She gets psychoanalyzed enough by armchair psychologists without me doing it myself.”

The idea of having insufficient offspring was a foreign one to the little changeling. If Celestia wanted some, he was sure that there were queens out there who would be more than happy to offload a few, if they didn’t think that she’d burn them to a crisp.

“Are you still Celestia’s student?” Stasis asked.

Star Swirl hesitated for a moment. “…I am, and I’m not. There came a time, less than a decade after she took me on as her student, when she showed up one day at the Royal Academy and told me that she thought it was time that we…well, ‘part ways’ isn’t quite right, but it was time for our relationship to change. She figured that I’d learned enough about life that I didn’t really need her help anymore. I could write to her, and even visit her, and I was welcome to come to her with any questions that I had – but she told me that I needed to stop thinking of myself as her student. The relationship just got a bit more…horizontal, I suppose. Not that you can ever get too familiar with your goddess ruler, but you know what I mean.”

“You were still at the Royal Academy after ten years?” Discord’s tooth, did these ponies ever stop learning? How were you ever supposed to do things, if you spent your whole short life in school?

Star Swirl snorted. “I was a professor, lad. I would probably have been a bloody dean, but the Academy just thought it would be too scandalous, promoting Celestia’s protégé so quickly – even if I was the best magician on campus by that point, anyway. Maybe in the world. There’s nothing like being single and having a body and mind in their twenties to let you get hard things done, fast.”

The old pony sighed, closed his eyes, and was quiet for a few moments. Stasis was about to reach over and wake him up when he continued.

“Anyway. Just like with my Pa, I had known that little talk was coming, and I’d kind of dreaded it...but after she let me go, I guess I just sort of felt…a bit relieved, maybe. I was already a renowned magician in my own right; only fools thought that I’d gotten my position by anything but my own hard work. I actually gave up my position at the Academy, too; I guess I’d kept it mostly so that I could stay close to the princess, and because I wanted to…hmm…impress her, I suppose. Or earn her respect, or something like that. As it was, even though the university only made me teach a few hours a week, if you combine that with the time spent dealing with bureaucracy, I guess I just decided that it was too much. I resigned and used what money I had to set up my own little workshop, where I worked pretty much twenty-four seven.

“Now, any magic dealing with living things is almost always incredibly difficult and dangerous – that’s why you have to let your body heal itself the old-fashioned way instead of just having your doctor wave his horn and ‘poof!’, you’re better.”

“But what about spells that turn ponies into chairs and trees and things?” Stasis asked. He’d never seen such a spell, but he’d heard of them.

Star Swirl waved a hoof dismissively. “Parlor tricks. Those are basically nothing but complicated illusions – they might make you look like a tree, the best ones can even make you feel like a tree, but if you try to do any photosynthesis, you’re going to be gettin’ pretty hungry. Heck, if you’ve been cut, it’s the simplest thing in the world for me to cast a spell that makes you look pretty as a daisy – and you’ll keep looking that way until you bleed out.

“Anyway, my point, lad, is that since life magic, as it’s called, is so gosh-darned hard, of course that’s what my attention was drawn to first. When I got my own workshop, I decided to make a spell that would cure birth defects – or at least, most birth defects. Don’t ask me why I picked that one – ponies almost always ask me that like they think that I’ve had some kind of traumatic life experience with a blind fillyfriend or a crippled sibling or something.” He shrugged. “I picked that problem to solve because it was hard, that’s all.”

Star Swirl chuckled. “And how hard! Just healing a cut means that you’ve got to weave together flesh – and flesh is so amazingly, amazingly complicated that nopony can do it without…well…making a mess of things. Let’s leave it at that.

“And so when curious ponies started going through my trash and found a lot of malformed mouse fetuses, well…if I wasn’t Celestia’s student, I don’t think they would have let me get away with it. As it was, I learned to burn anything I didn’t want ponies to see. And the fact that I suddenly quit my set-for-life academic position and for four years hardly ever left my workshop, and nopony knew anything except that I was mutilating baby mice and running my furnace day in and day out…well, lad, let’s just say that there were rumors flying about. A lot of rumors.”

“You were experimenting on mice?” Stasis asked. He didn’t think that ponies had the stomach for that kind of thing. He’d been really hungry one time, and so he made a joke about draining a mouse’s blood and drinking it, and everypony at school had made a big fuss about it: the other students, Miss Brighten, Principal Principal. Even now, Major tried to distract him whenever small rodents might be nearby. Stasis was still bitter about the whole thing.

Star Swirl nodded solemnly. “Aye, lad, I was. That’s why that kind of magic is usually forbidden – you might think that you can help ponies, heal their wounds and fix their infirmities and whatnot, but unless you know exactly what you’re doing, things get very messy, very quickly. I’ve got a pretty strong constitution myself, but even I just about gave up on my project when things got to the experimental stage.”

Star Swirl sighed, sounding tired just thinking about it. “But I didn’t give up. And just a few weeks before my thirtieth birthday, after not-quite four years of doing nothing but eating, sleeping, and working, I sent a letter to each of Equestria’s most prestigious academies and universities, outlining in great detail the exact way to perform the amniomorphic spell. It took a few months for anypony to get up the gumption to actually try the spell, of course, even on dumb animals – but try it they did, and with success. And even today, if a doctor casts a spell and finds a prenatal defect, they can refer you to a specialist and, odds are, they can fix it.”

“Were you famous?” Stasis asked. He wished he were famous.

Star Swirl nodded. “Aye, lad. I was famous before that, but after mothers all Equestria-over started showing off their perfect little babies, I was legendary. It’s been fifty years, and the amniomorphic spell is still probably the most famous, most revered spell made in modern times.”

He sighed again. “That’s partly my fault, I suppose. Fifty years, lad…fifty years of labor, hundreds of new spells, and I still haven’t come close to topping the spell I did in less than four years in my twenties.”

“You’re still the best wizard ever, though,” Stasis pointed out.

Star Swirl nodded. “I know, lad, I know. And I’ve never stopped tackling the hardest problems I can find. I’ve invented illusion spells, transmutation spells, time spells…heck, I’ve even got this gosh-darned destiny spell that I can never seem to finish. It doesn’t matter; as difficult and fascinating as some of them might be, none have come close to affecting the world the way that my amnio has. Some of them Princess Celestia has even stashed away in the Royal Archives as ‘too dangerous’ for the average pony. How is a spell supposed to help ponies if it’s kept a secret?”

“Dangerous?” Stasis queried innocently.

“Don’t even think about it.”

Stasis pouted.

Star Swirl poured himself a glass of water and drank it quickly before continuing.

“Anyway, lad…I don’t suppose that there’s much to talk about after that. I wasn’t quite so bad after I finished the amnio, but I was still a workaholic. Didn’t do much except work on my spells until…I guess it was almost twenty years ago now that I got a letter in Ma’s chicken scratch telling me that Pa had died. Apparently he’d been plowing the fields, something no pony his age should be doing, no matter how strong…and his heart gave out. Ma found him slumped over in the harness, dead as a doornail. Went back inside and wrote Principal and I one letter each, asking each of us to come to the funeral.”

Star Swirl quickly quaffed another glass of water. “First time we’d seen each other in over forty years…first time we’d seen Ma or Pa, either. Oh, I’d written them from time to time, and from time to time they’d write back – always Ma’s chicken scratch, Pa didn’t know how to write. And it was always the same. ‘We’re fine, the farm’s doing well, send some money if you can.’”

Star Swirl set the glass down a bit harder than Stasis thought was strictly necessary. “And I did send money – more than enough for Pa to hire somepony to work the fields if he wasn’t so gosh-darned stubborn all the time. I never did go to visit, though…I would have if they’d asked, but they didn’t, and I didn’t. I was too busy. And before you know it, Pa’s dead…I figured I’d have a chance to speak to my mother and my brother after the funeral, but soon as Pa was in the ground, Principal went up to speak with her. First words he said to me in over forty years: ‘She’s dead.’”

Star Swirl snorted angrily. “That’s Principal for you – for such a prudish, stuck-up stallion, he still manages to surprise you.” He shook his head. “We had a double-funeral that day – not like the folks up there, to let a body lie around too long. Embalming’s not really necessary, not when everypony you’ve ever known is a few hour’s trot away. And my brother…well, I just about had to corner him to get him to speak to me. I lied and told him that I’d been looking for a new place to set up shop, someplace quiet and out-of-the-way, and I asked him if he knew of anything near where he lived, in Trottingham.

“He could have lied – maybe he should have lied. But that’s not the way he is – he’ll snub you out of jealousy or envy or for no reason at all for sixty years, but you’ll be darned before you catch him in a lie. So here I am. I’ve lived here for almost twenty years, lad, and in all that time, do you know how many times I’ve spoken to him? Do you?”

“Not…not very many?” Stasis answered. He’d never seen Star Swirl like this before. He took a step back.

Star Swirl shook his head slowly, looking Stasis in the eye. “No, lad. Not very many times at all. Not that he’s been completely silent, of course…I still get those letters about you. From his tone, you’d think I took you in just to spite him! The conceit of that stallion!”

They were both silent for a little while after that. Stasis wondered if maybe it would be best if he just went to bed. Finally, though, the old stallion sighed for the umpteenth time that night.

“I’m sorry, lad…I’m sorry, Stasis. Obviously I’m still upset at my brother about a few things. I guess when you’ve lived as long as I have, it’s hard not to have a laundry-list of things you wish you’d done different.”

Stasis thought about Mother. She must have a ton of things she wished she’d done different. He felt kind of bad for her, which was an unfamiliar feeling. He remembered what Nit had said, and wished that there was some way he could let Mother know that he was okay without actually letting her know that he was still alive. He hoped that she wouldn’t be too angry with him, when he went back.

Star Swirl slowly walked into the living room, Stasis following. There, the dinged-up old pony looked over at the dinged-up old grandfather clock – an old grandfather clock that Stasis had only begun to pay attention to now that he knew how to tell the time, and now that he had a reason to care – and squinted.

“Another funny thing about getting old – you try to tell a lad about how you got your cutie-mark, and you end up telling him your entire life story except for how you got your cutie-mark.” He looked down at the little changeling, his brow furrowed.

“I didn’t tell you about how I got my cutie-mark, right?”

Stasis shook his head. “No, you skipped that part.”

Star Swirl nodded. “Right. Well, like you, I was more than a bit sharp when I was just a little lad. Principal had already learned how to read, of course, and when I was three Ma insisted that he teach me too. I took to it like a fish to water, and before you know it I was asking Principal just about every day to stop by the town’s new little library and pick up some more books for me to read.

“Now, you have to understand that my parents were of an older generation – neither of them had hardly any education at all. A lot of folks in that situation might not have thought much of ‘book-learning,’ as they called it, and they might have made my brother and I put aside our studies so we could help more with the chores.

“Pa, though…his cutie-mark was of a green field with little yellow flowers in it. I always assumed that it meant he was supposed to work out in the fields as a farmer, which is what he was doing, but now I wonder if maybe his special talent was actually in gardening or landscaping or something. I don’t know; he never talked much, and certainly not about that kind of thing. He was always too busy, or too tired. But while he never complained, I think that maybe he was kind of hoping that Principal and I would get off the farm and make something of ourselves; he probably wouldn’t have been upset if either of us had become a farmer like him, but as it was, he was willing to shoulder all the burdens of running a small family farm like that by himself – well, with Ma’s help too, of course – so that my brother and I could learn a bunch of things he didn’t understand and probably couldn’t care less about.”

Star Swirl stroked his beard. “Hmm…what was my point? Oh, right. I was just saying all that to explain why, even though I grew up on a farm way out in the hinterlands, by the time I was six years old I think I knew almost as much about math and science and whatnot as anypony else in Tall Tale except for maybe old Butterbur himself – and about theoretical magic, I doubt anypony knew more than me. Not that that was seen as a very useful thing to know in Tall Tale, theoretical magic…but like I said, as long as my parents thought I was working as hard as I could on my studies, they mostly didn’t care what it was I was studying. I’d try to explain things to them over dinner, but if you’ve ever tried to explain algebra and astronomy to ponies whose heads are already full of ploughs and plants and potaters all day, you’ll understand why I gave up on that after a while.

“As for my mark…well, on my sixth birthday, Ma and Pa gave me ten bits that they had scraped together somewhere – probably from the bottom of our salt and sugar barrels, if I had to guess, seeing as how both were empty for at least a month afterwards. Nowadays ten bits may not seem like much, especially to you with the little tutoring racket you’ve got going with Major’s mother, but back in Tall Tale when I was a lad, it was huge. I had Ma take me to the library, where they used to keep these free catalogs on display that had all kinds of things that you could order – shiny new horseshoes, laundry lines, wooden teeth. I swear, those things were darn-near as thick as the Physiologus…if you could think of something, you could probably order it from one of those catalogs…or at least that’s how it seemed to me at the time, anyway.

“Now, for quite a while I’d had my eye on one particular item in one particular stack of catalogs. The catalog was at the bottom of the stack, in much better condition that the rest – probably because nopony in Tall Tale had ever bothered to open it before. It was called The New Astronomer, and it had just about everything a new astronomer could ask for – star charts, astrolabes, fancy observation logs. They even had old-fashioned sundials you could order, if you were into that sort of thing.

“But I had my eye on something truly special – the ‘Lunar Special’ it was called, although I’m pretty sure that the princess had never even heard of it. Still, I figured it was the prettiest thing that I’d ever seen – all brass and glass, it shone like gold in that little two-inch-by-two-inch photograph. I could almost hear it calling out to me: ‘Star Swirl!’ it cried. ‘Star Swirl! You can’t consider yourself a real astronomer until you buy me, Star Swirl!’”

Star Swirl shifted slightly on his haunches. “Of course, that was pretty much what the description said, too – and I figured that between the catalog and myself, one of us had to be right. I dug out all my savings, plus the ten bits from Ma and Pa, sealed it away in an envelope, addressed it, stamped it, and dropped it off at the post office to be sent with all-haste to some address in Everfree City – which might as well have been the moon, for as far away as it seemed at the time.

“Of course, the mail didn’t run quite as fast back then as it does now. It was six long, long weeks later that I finally got my first telescope – and my cutie-mark, to boot.”

“They sent your cutie-mark in the mail?” asked Stasis, who still wasn’t quite sure how the mail worked, exactly.

“Not quite, lad. You see, I was so excited to get my new Lunar Special that I darn nearly wrote Luna a letter asking if maybe she could bring nighttime just a few hours early that night – it being such a special occasion and all. When night finally did come, of course I did what any self-respecting young lad would do: I went to my room, pushed my bed aside, set up my telescope, and spent hours and hours just staring at the sky.”

“Why’d you care about the sky?” asked Stasis. “I thought you were interested in magic.”

Star Swirl nodded. “I was, and I am. But magic and the sky – especially the night sky – have always been closely associated. Don’t ask me why – nopony knows for sure, really. For a long time, astronomers thought that maybe the stars were actually suns in their own right, just so far away that they look like tiny little dots.”

“Oh. I just always thought that they were the spirits of the dead,” Stasis admitted. The idea of there being thousands of thousands of suns who-knows-how-far away seemed a bit far-fetched to him.

“Um…probably not, lad. Some of the oldest myths speak of old gods, hugely powerful, who used to travel from star to star like you and I would go to the grocer’s.”

“Or the pastry shop,” Stasis added, just deciding to throw that out there.

“…Right. Supposedly the original Physiologus explained these myths in some detail, but precious few copies survived the Reign, and I already told you what happened to them. Heck, nopony in Equestria could even remember how to read after Discord was done with them, and the rest of the world’s not been known for its book-smarts. The princesses pretty much had to build civilization from scratch.”

“So what are the stars?” Stasis questioned.

Star Swirl shrugged. “Nopony knows, lad. If they were suns, though, why isn’t Luna much stronger than Celestia, who only commands one sun? And seeing as how Luna can move the stars and constellations about at will, well…those suns would have to be so far away, the thought of how fast they’d have to be moving will make you crazy just thinking about it.”

“Luna can move stars around?” asked Stasis. He’d never heard that before.

“Aye, lad, and back when her sister and she first came to Equestria, she used to do it all the time. But…hmm…well, moving the sun and the moon is one thing, but I guess most creatures kind of like to have their stars stay in one place. It certainly makes it easier on us astronomers, when the stars aren’t running away from our telescopes like chickens with their heads cut off…that’s a gryphon metaphor, by the way. Don’t you go using it yourself.”

Stasis filed it safely away.

“As it is, the astronomers still have to send her a letter every time one ‘em wanders off course. ‘Planets,’ we call them – means ‘wandering star’ in a dead language that makes us sound really smart when we use it. Doesn’t seem like something any self-respecting sun would do, going rogue on us like that. And what about falling stars?”

Star Swirl shook his head. “No, lad, as far as we can tell, the stars are some kind of thaumaturgical constructs, much smaller than the moon, and probably a bit farther away. They, or else the night sky in general, is probably linked to magic as well; why else would magic cutie-marks almost always feature stars, and sometimes the moon to boot? Otherwise, you’d think they’d show a horn or a spellbook or something.”

“You still haven’t told me how you got your cutie-mark,” Stasis pointed out.

Star Swirl frowned. “That’s because you keep rabbit-trailing me, lad!” He snapped. “At this rate, I’ll be teaching you differential calculus before I finally get around to finishing my story.”

Stasis glanced over at the clock, which already showed a time well-past that of bed. Bwahahahahahaha!

“Anyway, lad, I got my telescope, I was up all night, and pretty soon it was getting about time for the sun to come up – and after that, for me to go to school. Obviously, I was going to be quite the tired lad when it came time to take that math test at the end of the school day.”

Reaching up, the old wizard adjusted his hat before continuing. “Now, a lesser mind might have thought to himself, ‘Hey, maybe I should get a few hours of sleep before school starts and see what happens.’ Not old…err, young Star Swirl, though. I knew that a more clever solution was in order.

“I busted out all the books I had on magic and wizardry, but while they had more spells in ‘em than I could cast in a week, none were quite what I needed. So I improvised – I took a spell on…hmm.”

Star Swirl stroked his beard. “Well, I can’t quite remember what it was right now, but I’m pretty sure it had something to do with making you look happy when you’re actually downright miserable. Or was it to make you look surprised for the not-so-surprising party? I can’t recall. Whichever it was, though, it was just a simple, easy illusion spell that even a thaumaturgically-advanced six-year-old could master.

“Now, I didn’t think of it as spellcrafting at the time, of course. I hadn’t even been casting spells for that long – and all my books said that most unicorns wouldn’t be ready to make their own spells before they get to college, if they ever do. So I didn’t think too much about it as I took that spell and made a few tweaks to it. By the time I got to school and sat down for old Butterbur’s bore-the-imagination-right-out-of-you lectures, all done in that dry, nasally monotone of his, I had a spell ready that would make me look like I was awake even as I snoozed through the whole thing.”

Stasis frowned. “Wait…is that the same spell you taught me?”

Star Swirl nodded proudly. “Aye, lad, it is – though if I’d known you were going to be such a little devil with it, I’d have thought twice before teaching you it. Or thrice.”

“It’s not my fault if Miss Brighten’s an earth pony and can’t tell when somepony’s wearing an illusion,” Stasis said sensibly.

Star Swirl snorted. “Aye, my brother explained the situation to me in some detail in one of his wonderful letters. The point is, lad, the spell actually worked – or, it would have.”

“What happened?” Stasis asked.

“Well, first thing I knew was, old Butterbur was standing over me with this horrible scowl on his jowly face, like I’d just told him that you’re not supposed to eat butter straight unless you want to look and smell like a tub of the stuff yourself. I swear, he was just jiggling with rage.”

Stasis giggled.

“Turns out that Butterbur’s idiot son Potluck noticed something new about my hindquarters, and when he asked me about it – something only he could get away with during class, of course – I might have…well, I guess I snored a little back then.”

“You snore a lot now.”

“Shut up, lad. Point is, Potluck whined to his daddy like the sleazy little tattle-taling coward that he was and probably still is, and I got in trouble. Turns out, I never got a chance to take that test, after all – Butterbur was too out of shape to beat me himself, so he sent me home for my Pa to do it.”

“Did he?” asked Stasis, who thought that Star Swirl’s cutie-mark should probably be in paddling instead.

Star Swirl shook his head. “Of course not. In any other circumstances, I would have got the paddlin’ of my life for sleeping in class and disrespecting my teacher like that – I might have said a few things before I left that I would have regretted, if I’d gotten paddled for it – but remember: I just got my cutie-mark. Even without cute-ceanaras, that’s still a big deal. My Pa just patted me on the back and told me he was proud of me. One of the happiest moments of my life.”

“If you were so good at magic before, you must have been unstoppable with your mark!” exclaimed Stasis, who wished that he were unstoppable.

“…Not quite, lad. You’re getting cause and effect mixed up. Cutie-marks don’t make ponies good at something: they just show what a pony’s already good at. I was already good at magic…but I was also good at science, and mathematics, and history, and even philosophy, though I was always a bit suspicious about that last one. Just a step above psychology for attracting crazies, in my opinion.

“What I mean though is, it didn’t take a genius to figure out that I was going to be doing things using my head. Now that I had my cutie-mark, though, it was like…I don’t know. You know how it is when you’re looking in the cupboards for some honey, and you’re pushing aside the peanut butter and the jam and the maple syrup and the molasses, and you’re thinking, ‘How can I find the solutions to the world’s problems if I can’t find my gosh-darned honey?’, and you’re looking in the cabinets to either side, and when you finally take a step back and look again, you see that the honey was actually right in front of you the whole time?”

“…No?”

Star Swirl waved his hoof dismissively. “Well, it’s sort of like that. Like a lot of young ponies, I spent plenty of time wondering what my cutie-mark was going to be and what it was I was destined to do with my life. Was I going to be a scientist, using hypotheses and experiments and measurements as my tools to uncover the universe’s dirty little secrets? Or maybe I was going to be an astronomer instead? Just that night, I’d been hunting for the tiniest starlets. ‘There you are, you silly little bugger,’ I’d said. ‘Thinking you could hide from Star Swirl. Ha!’

He chuckled. “I even figured that maybe I’d become an archeologist. Thought I’d go around beating back cannibals and solving ancient puzzles and whatnot. Been reading a few too many books, I reckon, if such a thing is even possible. What I didn’t want to become, though, was a professor; I didn’t want to have to teach when I could be learning new things myself. And I thought that if I had to become a regular teacher like Butterbur, spending my days instructing a bunch of smart-arse kids like myself, well, I figured I’d best just go find some hemlock and do myself in quick before the kids had a chance to do me slow. ‘If hemlock was good enough for them ancient philosophers, then darnnit, it’s good enough for me,’ that was my thinking.”

“But your cutie-mark was in magic,” Stasis pointed out.

Star Swirl nodded. “Aye. When my Pa saw it, he figured that I must be destined to be an astronomer, seeing as how my cutie-mark had stars in it and I’d just gotten my telescope the night before. But I knew that wasn’t it – as soon as I first saw it, there in class with ol’ Butterbur standing over me and droning on and on about what a delinquent I was going to be, I knew that I’d gotten my mark because of that spell I’d made. In one night, I’d made something that could defeat Butterburs all-the-world-over! ‘Why,’ I figured, ‘I can do pretty much anything with magic, can’t I? And I’m darn good at it, too!’”

Star Swirl shook his head. “I was never so excited as that day, lad – not even when I got into the Academy and became Princess Celestia’s student. That day, I knew what I was going to do with my life, I knew I was going to be good at it, and I knew that I was going to enjoy the heck out of it. I could feel the magic inside of me, my empty head was just achin’ to be filled with new spells, and I was going to go out and read more books, learn more spells, and solve every problem that I set my mind to – solve every problem that there was. And, you know, oldness may be getting the upper hoof for now, but I’m not beaten just yet – if it doesn’t hurry up and kill me, I’ll even have an anti-aging spell done before you know it,” the old pony finished, his posture strong, his expression unyielding.

“You will?” asked Stasis, who wasn’t sure that he liked the idea of a spell that would make everypony immortal. He could feel a bit of his specialness slipping away.

“No. Now be quiet while I finish my power-rush.”

After a few more moments of silence, Star Swirl sighed, and seemed to deflate a little bit.

“Anyway. That’s how I got my cutie-mark, lad – one of the most exciting moments in any pony’s life. Of course, after that things started to go south with my brother Principal…but I already told you that story.”

The old pony went silent once more. It took a few moments for Stasis to realize that the impromptu story was, in fact, done.

Star Swirl cleared his throat. “Well, lad, I guess that it’s time for you to –“

“Wait!” Stasis shouted. “I have questions! Lots and lots of questions!”

Star eyed the little changeling critically. “You can ask one question, lad. One. Then it’s off to bed with you. I can’t be having you up all night with me, anyway. I’d go crazy.”

Stasis thought for a minute. As he thought, he found his gaze drawn, as it so often was, to Star Swirl’s magnificent, luscious beard.

“Where’d you get your beard?” he asked. “Were you born with it, or did you make it with a spell?” This question would serve the double-purpose of satisfying his curiosity and settling a long-standing dispute between Major and himself. If Star Swirl was born with his beard, then Major owed him a cookie.

“Eh….” Star Swirl stroked the aforementioned mandibular growth without seeming to realize it. “Well…neither, I reckon. When I first moved to the Academy, my chin was just as barren as any other pony’s. Not too long after that, though, the fur on my chin just seemed to take on a life of its own, and it started growing like crazy. By the end of my first semester, it was already down to my chest, and it just wouldn’t stop growing.”

“Where’d it come from?” Stasis asked.

Star Swirl rubbed his forehead with one hoof for a few moments.

“Well, lad…there was something else that was happening to me while I was getting in my beard. Something a mite bit more unpleasant.”

“Were you growing old?” Stasis asked, concerned.

“…No. That part didn’t come until later, and it wasn’t quite such a surprise. No, lad, I was…well, here, I’ll just show you.”

Star Swirl gently levitated his hat off his head, the bells jingling slightly, and he bent down. As overgrown and wild as his chin was, so, too, was the crown of his head naked and exposed.

“You have no hair there,” Stasis pointed out.

Star Swirl heaved a great sigh as he replaced his mighty magician’s hat. “No, lad, I don’t. Same time as I started getting in my beard, I starting losing hair off the top, too. Way I figure it is, my life got so turned upside down when I moved to the capitol and became Celestia’s student and all, even my hair forgot which way was up. It must have just started growing down through my head and out my chin instead.”

Stasis’ eyes got very, very wide.

Star Swirl rubbed the back of his neck. “Heh heh…you know, that was just a joke, lad; my hair didn’t really…ehh…anyway, what I was trying to say was, going bald wasn’t that big a deal, not at first. But, you know, when you’re Princess Celestia’s personal student, and a brilliant, already-famous wizard, and you’ve got an exotic accent…well….”

Stasis was having some difficulty paying attention at this point. He was just staring at Star Swirl’s giant head; he could practically see the wizard’s hair growing around and through his brain and then out his chin, the filaments seeming not so much like hair as long, thin tentacles, wiggling all about, searching for more brains to control, seeking out the smartest, cleverest, wickedest ones that they could find….

Stasis wondered if it was really Star Swirl that he was talking to, or if it was actually Star Swirl’s hair. He slowly took a step back.

Star Swirl – or Star Swirl’s hair – cleared his throat. “Well, I might not have paid too much attention to my personal appearance before…but now I had all these girls watching me, day-in and day-out. I swear, I couldn’t sit down at a table for lunch without a dozen of ‘em flocking so close, I could barely get enough oxygen to breathe. Leastways, that’s what I would tell myself when I kept getting stupid around them. I swear, having mares around used to shave eighty points off my IQ; I was barely brighter than average when I had them swarming about, telling me how smart I was, how fascinating I was, so on and so forth.”

“That must have been really annoying,” Stasis empathized, thinking of all the really annoying girls he knew. The fact that Star Swirl’s hair suffered the same problems that he did was somehow surprising.

Star Swirl hesitated again. “Eh…yes and no. When you’re a bit older you’ll understand. As it was, I would sometimes complain to some of the other stallions about my little problem, and they would make fun of me, of course. ‘Send some our way,’ they’d say. But then I started to grow this crazy beard and lose the hair atop my head, all at the same time. Suddenly I found that I enjoyed those fillies’ company quite a bit better than I thought I did – and I was afraid that now I’d lose it.

“What did you do?” Stasis asked.

“The only thing I could do, lad – nothing. There was nothing I could do. When I wasn’t pondering the mysteries of the universe, I was pondering whether I should get a toupee or just let it go and hope that the girls would love me for who I was.

“Now, obviously the second option wasn’t going to work, and if you’ve ever seen a toupee, lad, then you’ll understand why I didn’t go that route. No, I just sat around, inventing spells and solving calculus problems and just in general feeling sorry for myself until the end of my second semester, when I graduated.”

“You graduated in just two semesters?” Stasis asked. If he could graduate in just two semesters, and then go out and get a job as a mercenary or mayor or poacher or something, he’d make way more than what he’d been getting from Major’s mother. He’d be rich!

Star Swirl nodded. “I was already seventeen when I entered the Academy, remember? I didn’t quite meet all the normal requirements for graduation…I can still remember those bureaucrats, practically slavering at the mouth over the chance to make me take courses in things I already knew or wouldn’t need and couldn’t care less about. But autocrats trump bureaucrats, and the princess was able to sort everything out so that I could graduate on time.

“It was at my graduation when I finally found the solution to my problem. You see, the Royal Academy for Gifted Unicorns – which is a grade school, high school, and full-on university all combined, in case you haven’t figured that out, lad – is just like pretty much every other pretentious old institution you’re ever likely to meet, and it likes to make a big deal about its history. In this case, the Academy tries to trace its roots all the way back to the founding of Equestria, when the Unicorn King started the first school of wizardry. Doesn’t matter that he started the school because he needed more professional wizards for his army, or that the original school was destroyed ages ago, or that there is no physical or historical connection between Princess Celestia’s Academy and that ancient college at all. It’s the spiritual connection that counts, and the connection between ponies’ wallets and the Academy’s need for more nice new swimming pools and squash courts.

“Anyway, point is, when you graduate from the Academy, it’s a pretty big deal – even if you don’t continue your college-level education, you’re just about guaranteed a great job as a manager in some thaumaturgical workshop somewhere, or you can even shoot to be an officer in the royal guard. And what they decided to do to show just how big a deal it is, is make everypony dress up in these big, ridiculous robes and hats, complete with frills and these little bells that tinkle all sweet-like every time you take a step.”

Star Swirl shook slightly in demonstration, sending all his bells a-tinkling. “Apparently this is the best reconstruction we can make of what the professional wizardry used to wear back in the old-old-old days. Now, at the time, I wasn’t any more fond of this old thing than any of the other ponies there. ‘This is great,’ I thought. ‘I mean, what could attract the ladies more than wearing the same costume that bewitched their great-great-great-grannies? All I need now is to stuff my pockets with mothballs and get a shiny new set of dentures, and I’ll be beating them off with a stick!’

“Also, it didn’t help that these bells were sort of like the cow-bells you used to see on the dimwitted cattle back before the species-discrimination laws tightened up. Really useful, those bells – nothing worse than getting accidently run over by some nitwit cow who thought she saw a snake. Not exactly the kind of thing you want hanging all over your body, though. Not the kind of message I wanted to be sending.

“About as soon as I got into these robes, I was ready to take ‘em off – but I forgot about them as soon as the ceremony started. My brother wasn’t there, of course, and neither were my parents – I wasn’t about to ask them to leave the farm and travel halfway across the country only a year after I left – but Celestia was there, like I’d been hoping, and lo-and-behold, Princess Luna was there too. I could only imagine that Celestia must have asked her to attend; Princess Luna’s nocturnal, you know, and she’d not said two words to me in any of the times we’d met before. I’d just bow real deep and say, ‘Your Highness,’ and she’d just nod her head a little bit and go back to her business.

“This time, though, when the ceremony was over and I went behind the stage to change, there Princess Luna was, just waiting for me. I guess she must have teleported or something, I don’t know how else she got there that fast…but of course, I don’t how she could teleport somewhere when she couldn’t see just where she was going, either. Either way, there she was, and of course I just bowed and waited for her to tell me what it was she wanted. Formality with Celestia is usually just a formality, but you don’t have to be a genius to know that being proper with the Moon Shepherd is serious, serious business.

“She started out pretty much like Celestia had, the first time I met her, just asking question after question after question about myself. Of course, when Celestia did it, she didn’t speak like the Unicorn King was still on the throne and the pegasi were still struggling not to become a vassal race of the gryphons. I swear, during that whole conversation, I had a part of my brain just going a mile-a-minute trying to remember all my thou’s and ye’s, thee’s and you’s. Is it thy or thine? I couldn’t remember; I was just winging it. I felt sure that I was offending her terribly, too; her expression was just so blank, so cold. I figured that any second now I’d lose my head, just because I’d never taken ancient Equestrian seriously as a field of study. I decided that if I survived, I’d write a letter of apology to every author of every book on pre-Chaos Equestrian semantics that I had never bothered to read.

“I guess I must have done better than I thought at the time, though, because after all her questions were finished – and I got the impression that she was only half-listening to the answers, anyway; she’s probably met a thousand geniuses in her time – she asked me about my beard. All about it – when I got it, how long had it been growing in, did any other members of my family have one like it. As she was doing that, I just got to thinking about how small she was compared to her sister, how young-looking. Not that Celestia doesn’t look pretty young herself, mind you – but you could almost mistake Princess Luna for a young mare, if it weren’t, you know, for the dark-blue fur and the pure-magic mane and the sort of feeling you get about her that she could probably break you in half if she had a mind to.

“So, clever as she was, coming and asking me all the questions about myself, I knew the truth – old as she was, powerful as she was, regal as she was, she was really just another filly like all the ones down at the grocer’s who always tug at their mother’s saddlebags and ask about the pony with the huge, bushy beard. And I called her out on it, too. I asked her straight-out if the real reason she’d come back there was to ask me about my beard.”

“Did she strike you down?” questioned Stasis, who figured that if anypony deserved to be struck down, it was probably Star Swirl.

Star Swirl laughed. “No, lad, she didn’t strike me down. I was completely respectful, using thee’s and thou’s and your highness’s and all that; I just asked an innocent question, is all. Did she or did she not come back there just to ask me about my beard?

“Sure enough, that regal mask starts to drop, and now she’s gettin’ all shifty-like, as if I’d caught her with her hoof in the royal cookie jar. So of course, being the young idiot that I am, I can’t quite help myself. ‘Wouldst thou likest to touch it?’ I ask her. ‘Wouldst thou likest to touch my beard?’”

“And she still didn’t strike you down?” questioned Stasis, who really, really wished that he could strike ponies down.

“No, lad, and I’m afraid that she was old enough to resist the temptation that my beard offers – even if I could tell that she really, really wanted to touch it. Instead, her mouth just started twitching like crazy for a few seconds, and I could tell that she was trying her darndest not to smile. After a minute, though, she got it under control, and just like that, she was back to being the super-serious young princess that she’d been before. It was like she’d grown a thousand years older in just a second. Then she produced the fearsomest blade I’ve ever seen out of somewhere and commanded me to kneel.

“Of course, I thought, ‘Now you’ve gone and done it, Swirl. You’ve gone and lost your head over a mare, just like you always feared you would.’”

“Did you ever get married?” Stasis asked. Back when he lived in the forest with his family, he had had a sort of vague concept that ponies might decide not to take husbands or wives, but he’d never thought too much about it until now.

Star Swirl blinked. “Eh…no, lad, I didn’t. Things just seemed like they were moving too fast when I was in school, and afterwards…well, that’s the funny thing about locked and shuttered workshops, lad – try as you might, you’re not likely to find any mares just wandering about between the benches or hiding in the cabinets. And I wasn’t about to go prowling around any saloons, or wherever it is that mares spend their time these days. But you’re taking me off track again, lad.

“What I was trying to say was, for a moment there I was afraid that maybe some of the stories about the night princess were true. You know, the ones where she hunts dumb animals and mounts their heads on her wall like the gryphons do…I could just see it in my mind’s eye…’Equinus Beardicus,’ it’d say. It’d be the centerpiece of her collection, hanging right over the mantel, I had no doubt about that, but it didn’t make me feel much better about the situation.”

“Your mind’s…what?” asked Stasis. Star Swirl was so creepy sometimes.

Star Swirl grunted. “Metaphors, lad. Metaphors. Look it up.

“Anyway, knowing her a bit better now, I’m ashamed to admit that I ever had such thoughts about Princess Luna. She wouldn’t harm a fly – well, not as long as it was a properly proper little fly and left her ponies well enough alone, anyhow. Instead of taking my head, she just tapped me on the shoulder, on the head, and on the other shoulder with that big ol’ sword of hers – and not too lightly, I have to say; she wasn’t being gentle about it – and she magnified her voice magically like she was speaking to some huge crowd as she said, ‘Arise, Sir Star Swirl the Bearded.’”

The old wizard smiled. “And just like that, I was a Knight.”

“You were…a night?” Stasis asked, bemused. So creepy….

Star Swirl nodded. “Yes, I was a…wait. No, lad, not the kind of night that you’re thinking. A k-n-i-g-h-t knight…a sort of…hmm…a special warrior, I guess you could say. The Unicorn King was the first to use them, his special, elite guard, supposedly bound to him by strong oaths and powerful magic before they finally turned around and killed him, not long before Discord came around. After the princesses restored order, they renewed the practice, at least for a little while. For about a hundred years or so, Celestia had her guard, and Luna had her Lunar Knights – a much smaller group, but supposedly they could eat the guardsponies for breakfast, if the stories about ‘em are true. But eventually Luna just sort of let them…die off, I reckon. Discord was gone, and brutish though the gryphons might be, you can’t really say that they’re stupid. Blast enough of them to ashes with the power of the sun and moon, and they get the picture. Pretty soon there weren’t any real enemies around to fight, and she just gave over her personal defense to her sister’s stallions.”

“But she made you a Knight,” Stasis pointed out.

Star Swirl nodded, pride in his voice as he said, “Aye. As far as I can tell, I’m the first such Knight in centuries. I’m no soldier, but I’m no slouch in a fight either, and I guess that I must have made a pretty good impression on the night princess. Who knows? Maybe it was because I kept slipping in things about how much I loved the night sky, and kept mentioning specific constellations by name. Of course, they also say that she likes to spy on your dreams during the night, and has a nasty habit of cutting off heads and mounting them over her fireplace during the day. Maybe it was just the beard.”

“She…spies on your dreams?” asked Stasis, thinking of the strange dreams that he’d been having. The thought that divine voyeurs might be invading his mind while he slept made him deeply uncomfortable.

Star Swirl shook his head. “Don’t go believing everything you hear, lad. I’ve been having dreams for over eighty years now, and there’s been no goddesses in ‘em that I know of.”

Stasis found that scant comfort, given the types of things that likely populated Star Swirl’s unconscious. He wondered if it would be some kind of cosmic event if Princess Luna fell asleep inside somepony’s dream.

“Anyway, lad, that’s why I’m called Star Swirl the Bearded – every Knight of the Unicorn King had to have a title, supposedly based on his most defining characteristic. Lots of ‘the True’s,’ ‘the Good’s,’ and ‘the Noble’s’ walking around in those days, even after they started to get a reputation for brutality and corruption. Especially after they got that reputation.

“The princess, though, has always been a bit more…hmm…’peculiar’ in her titles, I guess you could say. A bit more honest, at least. And that’s why I started wearing this robe and hat – maybe they might look a bit silly to most folks, and one of those folks might even be me, but not only do they cover up my bald spot, they also remind me of who and what I am – Sir Star Swirl the Bearded, personal protégé to Princess Celestia and Lunar Knight.”

Stasis thought for a moment. “Well, I guess that that’s a cool title,” he admitted.

“Aye, lad, I’ve collected quite a few ‘cool’ titles in my day. Star Swirl the Bearded…greatest conjurer of our times…sender-to-bedder of legend.”

Stasis blinked. Quickly glancing over at the clock, he asked, “What –“

“Nope.”

“How –“

“No.”

“When –“

“Uh-uh.” Star Swirl pointed up the stairs.

“To bed with you, lad. If you’ve got any more questions, they can wait for tomorrow, when we’ve both had some rest.”

Stasis slowly turned and made for the stairs, abstaining from his standard grumbling and subvocalized cursing just this one time. It didn’t seem appropriate, after such an incredibly long and strange story – he wasn’t sure that he liked ponies any more than he did when he first came to Equestria all those months ago, but they were certainly more interesting than he had thought. It seemed like the more he knew about the world, the more he knew that he didn’t know. It bore some thought.

Pausing at the top of the steps, he looked down at Star Swirl – or Star Swirl’s hair, as the case may be – for a few moments.

“Good night, Star Swirl.”

“Good night, lad.”

Heartfelt

Stasis was bored. Really, really bored. Back with his family, he’d normally deal with boredom by moping about, silently glaring at all the happy, content changelings about him. How selfish they had seemed, going about their business and pleasure with such aplomb while their little sibling suffered so. Their carefree ways seemed to mock him and his troubles.

Back then, though, he hadn’t had Major.

“Major,” he said. “I’m bored.”

“Hmm.”

Stasis gestured at the stage around them. “This is stupid. I don’t know why I let you talk me into this. These ponies are all terrible liars. Even if we had a hundred Jacks, we couldn’t ever make a good play with ponies like these. My talents are being wasted. My summer is being wasted. This is unforgivable. I can’t forgive these ponies. I can’t forgive you either. You should feel terrible.”

“Hmm.”

“It’s like watching foals try to learn to walk. It’s just embarrassing for the entire species.”

“Hmm.”

“We should do something. I don’t know…maybe we could go backstage and paint vulgarities on the scenery. Except I hate to paint, and you don’t know any vulgarities…hmm…wait. I have an idea! What if we worked together? Even Star Swirl couldn’t complain then; he’s always droning on about how much more I could accomplish with others than by…my…self. You’re not listening. You’re looking at Abra again, aren’t you?”

“Hmm.”

“You are! Here I am, trying to be a ‘team-player’ and think of fun things for us to do, and you’re just sitting there and staring at girls! What is wrong with you?”

Major’s dreamy expression turned into a frown, although he didn’t take his eyes off of the bigger, browner filly. “Well, you don’t like it when I stare at you, and I just think that she is a really good actress. I don’t think that I’ll ever be as good an actress as her.”

Stasis looked over at Abra, who was practicing one of the scenes under Jack’s doleful supervision. She actually was delivering her lines well, if a bit hesitantly, and she kept glancing around at the surrounding ponies as if they actually cared whether she was doing a good job or not.

She was wrong. Nopony cared. Nopony except Major, and he was misguided.

“You’re misguided,” Stasis explained to his companion. “There’s nothing stare-worthy about Abra at all. She’s just a stupid, boring filly who reads books all day long but never gets super-powerful or famous like Star Swirl.”

“She’s not stupid,” Major said with a touch of recalcitrance. “Everypony knows that Abra is really smart; you just say things like that because you don’t like her. And she’s not boring, either; maybe if you talked to her instead of saying mean things all the time, you’d get to know all the interesting things about her.”

Stasis blinked. After a few moments consideration, his gaze narrowed and he glared at his companion.
“You’ve been talking to your dad again, haven’t you.”

“My dad knows lots of things that you and I don’t know, Stasis,” Major asserted.

Stasis rolled his eyes. He had used to think that he wanted to learn everything there was to know. Then he learned about Major’s dad.

A thought occurred to him. “If Abra’s so terribly interesting, why don’t you tell me something interesting about her?” he asked slyly.

Major took on his deep-thinking expression for a minute. “Well, she’s good friends with Mrs. Dewey the librarian, and she really likes to read all the old histories about great wizards like Clover the Clever and the Unicorn King. She tries to do spells on her own sometimes, but I guess it’s hard to do without anypony to teach her. Her mom is an earth pony, and her dad lives in Hollow Shades now.”

Stasis frowned. “Okay, first of all, none of that was interesting because it was about Abra. Also, you made it all up.”

Major shook his head. “No, I didn’t! Abra told me that stuff herself.”

“That was just some stupid dream you had, Major. Abra doesn’t talk to you.”

“She does too!” Major paused. “Um…she did too! Just the other day. I was at the library, and she was at the library, and I asked her if she wanted to play, and normally she tells me to shush since it’s a library and we’re not supposed to talk in libraries, but this time she didn’t tell me to shush. She asked me if I was ever going to stop asking her that, and I told her probably not, and so she said that she was too old to play, and I said that I was sorry to hear that, and I asked her what she was reading, and she told me what she was reading, and I asked her some questions, and then she had to go home.”

“I don’t believe you,” Stasis asserted. “And if even if I did believe you, it doesn’t matter. Abra’s boring. You should stop staring at her. It’s bad for you.”

Major shook his head. “I don’t think so, Stasis. I think that Abra is kind of pretty, and my dad says that it’s good to look at pretty things.”

Stasis stared at his companion as if seeing him for the first time.

“You think what?”

“I said that –“

“She’s brown, Major!” Stasis exclaimed. “From top to bottom, brown! Brown, brown, brown!”

“Brown is a very pretty color,” Major protested.

“Have you ever even seen brown?” Stasis countered. “Brown is the color you get when you forget to wash the brush, Major! It’s the color of dirty old tree bark and dead lawn trimmings! And do you know what else is brown? Can you guess? It’s small and brown and lumpy and it’s not potaters.”

“But…chocolate is brown,” Major countered. “So are chestnuts, and cinnamon, and nutmeg. Teak is brown and it’s my very favorite wood, and finches can sometimes have the prettiest brown eggs that I’ve ever seen. Also, Abra is brown.”

“Teak?” Stasis exclaimed. “Finches? Nutmeg? So that’s what you’ve been doing whenever you stare at her. You’re just sitting over there, pretending to be my companion while you think about how pretty she is! You traitor!”

Major rubbed the back of his neck and looked away. “Well….”

Stasis threw up his hooves in disgust. “Ugh! I can’t even…I don’t even want to talk to you right now, you…you…brown-lover!”

Major frowned and, seeming to gather his courage, looked Stasis in the eye. “You know, Stasis…you’re grey…and if we’re talking about interesting colors and boring colors, I think you should know that –“

“We’re not talking about grey! We’re not! This conversation is about brown!” Stasis interjected hastily. “Anyway, grey is a great color, the best, not all in-your-face like black and…um…you know what? I’m hungry. I’m really, really hungry. You should go to the grocer’s and get us something to eat.”

Major looked confused. “But…we just –“

“I’ll pay you back when we go to my house. But you better hurry; it’ll be our scene in just a few minutes,” Stasis finished.

“Oh. Okay,” Major said, quickly turning about and trotting for the exit.

Stasis sighed. Why couldn’t I be a really intimidating color, like black? Or red? Or black and red? He shook his head. Life was stupid.

He narrowed his eyes and looked over at the boring-brown filly. She had just finished her part and was exiting center stage.

What was it about her that could attract Major’s attention so? What was it that could divert Major’s attention from where it was rightfully due: that is, on Stasis?

Now that he thought about it, this was not the first time he had heard of such things. He recalled how Mag, returning from one of her missions, used to boast to her brothers about how much more successful she had been, how much more refined her technique.

He recalled as well the means by which she claimed to garner such success, her secret weapon that none could match, that would enable her to break any male of any species to her will.

Feminine wiles.

Of course! How could he have not seen it before? It was so obvious!

He glared at the brown filly, reclining by herself over near the rear of the stage, reading her book. So innocent. So mild.

…Or so she would have us believe. In reality, she was quietly weaving her web, her feminine wiles reaching out and through the hearts of everypony, tugging them into her grasping hooves. It was no wonder that unsuspecting innocents such as Major should be caught helpless by her power.

…Stasis wished that he had feminine wiles. Alas, Mag had refused to teach him, claiming that it was simply too much power to be left in the hooves of one so very young, and so very male. He hoped that she was happy. Here he was, her brother, a prince no less, left defenseless in a strange land before the might of his companion-stealing adversaries.

What was a little changeling to do against such odds? He would have to be clever. He would have to be strong. He would have to be ruthless.

Quickly formulating a plan, he trotted over towards where Abra lay reposed. He smiled and opened his mouth to greet her.

“Go away, Stasis,” she said, her mouth tightening but her eyes refusing to leave her book. “I’ve got nothing to say to you.”

He put a hoof to his chest. “Me? I’m just an innocent little pony child. What did I ever do to deserve such harsh regard?”

Her eyes met his, her lip twitching. “What did you do? What did you do? You covered my pencils in hot chili oil, you little brat!”

“Oh. That.” He shrugged. “Chewing on your pencils is a really nasty habit, Abra. Better than picking your nose, maybe, but definitely worse than chewing your lip, which I’ve also seen you do. Anyway, I was just trying to help you kick a bad habit. That’s what friends are supposed to do, right? Help each other?”

She slapped her book shut. “I don’t pick my…you’re not my friend! And what about the time you faked a note to the Principal saying that my mom was putting me in a special-needs school! How was that supposed to help me?”

“We all have our problems and difficulties, Abra,” he said sympathetically. “Some more so than others. I thought that you might benefit from more individualized attention.”

Abra’s face began to resemble chocolate pudding, her facial muscles twitching all about. It was fascinating to watch.

“Oh? Is that right? Is that what you think?” she finally managed to say. “And what about the time you painted my hind hooves blue while I was just trying to read my book in peace? What was that supposed to accomplish?”

“That one was actually Major’s fault,” Stasis explained. “I told him to buy purple paint, but sometimes he has trouble telling the difference between purple and dark blue. Anyway, I think it made you look classy. Have you ever considered wearing make-up? I think that you’re one of those fillies who could really benefit.”

Abra levitated her book into the air, and for a moment he was concerned that she would try to strike him with it again. But after a few moments she just put it into her saddlebags. Which were, of course, a very boring brown color.

“You…are…horrible,” she finally gritted out. “You are the single worst creature that I’ve ever met. I would rather get dunked in a vat of bacon grease and dropped in a pack of wild manticores than spend another second with you.”

“Manticores don’t travel in packs,” Stasis explained. “They are territorial. And they generally leave equines alone unless they’re starving, threatened, or they can smell fresh blood. Step into a thorn bush, and you might as well be stepping into a manticore’s belly,” he elucidated. He imagined her in a manticore’s belly. He bet it would get indigestion.

Abra stared at him.

“Horrible,” she said after a few moments.

Stasis waved a hoof dismissively. “Anyway, I didn’t come over here to talk to you about predators or to open old wounds.”

“Old wounds?” she questioned. “You painted my hooves last week! Look, I still have paint on my soles!” Abra said, raising one hind hoof up as proof.

Stasis waved the offending appendage away. “I didn’t come to stare at your hooves, either. I actually came to talk to you about something you might be interested in. I was going to tell you what your grade on the final exams was.”

She snorted and threw back her mane. “I know what my grade was, Stasis. Like I need you to tell me my grades!”

“You know?” Stasis asked, raising one eyebrow in surprise. “What a coincidence. So do I!”

Abra opened her mouth to retort, but then she paused. “Wait, what?”

“We have so many things in common,” Stasis continued. “You know what your grades are…and I know what your grades are. It’s almost eerie.”

“You can’t know my grades,” Abra countered. “Those are private!”

Stasis shrugged. “Are your grades private? Are they public? What do such concepts even mean?” He shook his head. “I don’t know, Abra. These things seem better left up to the philosophers than to common ponies like you and I.”

Abra’s eyes narrowed. “What are you getting at?”

Stasis took on a contemplative look. “Well, I just had this thought. What if somepony were to read a book on lock-picking that would let them pick a lock on a supposedly secure office door leading to hypothetically secure student grades? And what if said pony found that you were not, in fact, the smartest student in the class?”

“You broke into Miss Brighten’s office?” Abra asked, aghast. “That’s illegal!”

“I’m a minor,” Stasis replied.

“Nopony did better than me!” Abra exclaimed. “I’ve always been at the top of the class!”

“But what if you weren’t?” Stasis hypothesized. “What if there were another little pony who was smarter? Brighter? Better? What if he possessed more charisma, charm, and fearsome beauty than is any mere pony’s right?”

“You did not get a better grade than me, you liar!” she said, eyes flashing. “Do you know how hard I studied for those exams?”

Stasis looked to her left, where there was nopony. Then he looked to her right, where there was nopony.

“Given the general lack of companionship that I’m seeing here, I’m guessing you spend a whole lot of time studying, Abra,” he answered. “That’s what makes this so embarrassing.”

Abra’s glare turned positively poisonous and she opened her mouth a few times, but no words were forthcoming.

“I mean, I don’t even have my cutie-mark yet, for Discord's sake,” Stasis continued. “I only started school halfway through the semester. Can you imagine what the other ponies at our school are going to think when they hear about this?” He shuddered.

Abra glared at him, but after a few moments she began to blink furiously before turning her head to the side, her eyes squeezed shut.

“What is that you want, Stasis?” she squeezed out between clenched teeth. “Why won’t you just leave me alone?”

Oh, don’t play coy with me, seductress, he thought. You may have all the others fooled, but I’d like to see you try to worm your way into my affections! I have a will of iron, a mind of steel, and a heart of stone!

“I’m blackmailing you because I want you to quit the play,” he said out loud. “That’ll make it really, really easy to leave you alone, since I’ll never have to see you again.”

Abra stood, her saddlebags already hanging at her sides as she trotted quickly towards the exit. Stasis watched her go questioningly. She wasn’t going to put up a fight, or even give any parting shots or anything? That was weird. He enjoyed her enemyship; he wasn’t sure what to think of her just giving up like that.

He shrugged. Well, he had won, anyway. He supposed that would have to be enough. He had better things to do than waste his time thinking about Abra.

“You are so mean, Stasis.”

Stasis jumped, startled. Beside him was a little white-and-yellow filly.

He looked around the stage. “Where did you even come from? Are you stalking me?”

“I heard what you said to Abra,” Goldie said matter-of-factly. “You are the meanest pony that there ever was.”

Stasis rolled his eyes. “Yeah, well, whatever. I’ve got stuff to do, little girl. Why don’t you go play with your dolls or something?”

“I’m bigger than you are!” Her nose scrunched up as she glared at him. “And I’m telling.”

He waved her off dismissively. “Oh, you’re one of those, are you? Fine. Go tell. With every tale of woe that you spread about me, I grow stronger.”

Goldie shook her head. “I’m telling Major. I’m telling him about all the mean things you said to Abra to make her leave.”

Stasis frowned. “Yeah? Yeah, you think that’s what you’re going to do?” he countered. “Well, guess what: I’m going to tell Major what I think happened. And who do you think that he’s going to believe: me? Or you?”

“Me,” Goldie said.

It was Stasis’ turn to glare at her. She had a point.

“You need to stop interfering in my affairs,” Stasis warned. “If you don’t, you know what I’m going to do?” He paused a moment to think of what he was going to do. After a minute, he smiled slyly.

“I’m going to tell everypony that you’re not really a filly at all. I’m going to tell them about how you’re actually a colt who likes to play with dolls and put ribbons in his mane. You’re just so embarrassed by your own effeminateness that you have to pretend to be a girl to gain any social acceptance at all!” he finished, proud of his masterful understanding of pony social dynamics. If he wasn’t careful, he might accidentally blackmail himself, he was just so good.

Goldie squinted at him. “That’s stupid, Stasis.”

“What?” he asked. “It’s what? No. No. You’re not allowed to use that word. That’s my word.”

“Stupid, stupid, stupid,” Goldie chanted. “Stasis is just a stupid meanie who hurts big girl’s feelings ‘cause he’s too afraid to pick on somepony his own size.”

“Lies!” he shouted. “Lies! I pick on ponies of all sizes!”

“I’m going to tell on you,” Goldie repeated firmly. “I’m going to tell Major what you did, and I’m going to tell him that he shouldn’t be friends with you anymore. You’re going to be so lonely, and you’re not going to have any friends but some imaginary ones, and then I’m going to tell them what a big jerk you are,” she finished firmly.

“How dare you,” he said. “How dare you. Do you know who I am? That’s it. You’re my archenemy now. I’m going to destroy you, Goldie. I’m going to find out all your insecurities, put them all together, and set them ablaze, one huge inferno of shame and self-doubt that will burn until –“

“What’s going on?” asked Major.

“Major!” Stasis exclaimed, smiling brightly. “It’s so wonderful to see you again! Guess what? We have to go. Right now.”

“I’ve got something that I’ve got to tell you first, Major,” Goldie said. “It’s about Stasis.”

“We can have long conversations about unimportant things later,” Stasis responded, practically dragging Major off the stage.

“What’s going on? What were you and Goldie arguing about?” Major said, trying to turn back and look for the little white-and-yellow filly.

“It doesn’t matter,” Stasis said. “Remember how I said that you can play with Goldie? Well, now you can’t.”

Major stopped. Stasis tugged as hard as he could, but the orange colt wouldn’t budge.

“I’m sorry, Stasis, but I’m already her friend now. I have to play with her,” Major explained. “Besides, you told me that I could.”

Stasis waved away Major’s objection. “Yeah, well, that was before I knew what kind of pony she really is. I mean, I know that you like to think nice things about other ponies and all, but Goldie’s…well, just put all the bad ponies you’ve ever known or heard of and stuff them into one little white-and-yellow package, and that’s pretty much Goldie, right there. She’s a bringer of doom and a harbinger of –”

“Stasis made Abra cry,” said Goldie.

Stasis jumped and then glared at the sneaky little filly.

“What?” Major exclaimed. “Why would you do that, Stasis?”

“You are such a tattle-tale,” he said to Goldie. “I’ve met hundreds of ponies since I came to Trottingham, and out of all of them, you are easily the tattle-tale-ingest.”

“What did you say to her?” Major demanded.

Turning back to his companion, Stasis said, “Listen, Major, I don’t even know…I didn’t make her cry! She just had something in her eye, is all.”

“You’re not a very good liar, Stasis,” Goldie said.

“You stay out of this, you meddlesome pony! And I am an excellent liar!” Stasis retorted.

Major scowled and, pulling off his saddlebags, dug into them for a few moments.

“I know that you don’t like vegetables, Stasis, and I couldn’t remember if potatoes are a vegetable, so I didn’t get you any of those. I thought that you might like fruit, but I couldn’t remember if tomatoes are a fruit or not, so I didn’t get you any of those, either. Here,” he said, throwing Stasis a peppermint stick.

“The grocer, Mr. Basily, gave me some of these, so here. You can have it instead,” Major finished, throwing his saddlebags back on and trotting towards the exit.

“Wait! Wait, Major!” Stasis called out, running after his companion.

Pulling up alongside him, he said, “Where are you going, Major? We’re supposed to be practicing for the play!”

Major kept his gaze firmly ahead, not even bothering to look at Stasis. “I’m going to say I’m sorry to Abra,” he said quietly.

“You’re going to…what? But you didn’t even do anything!” Stasis said, exasperated.

“No,” Major admitted. “But somepony’s got to say their sorry, and if you’re not going to do it, then I guess that somepony’s got to be me.”

“You should make Stasis do it,” said Goldie. “Tell him that he’s got to say he’s sorry, or else you’re not going to be his friend anymore.

Stasis looked over his shoulder and scowled. “Discord’s tooth, what are you even doing here, Goldie? Don’t you have anything better to do?”

“No,” Goldie admitted.

“This is insane,” Stasis complained, trying to keep up with Major’s longer legs. “Do you even know where Abra lives?”

“No,” said Major. “But I’ll know where it is when I get there.”

Stasis groaned.

* * *

“Well, here we are,” narrated Stasis. “In the middle of a gods-forsaken wasteland, hours from civilization. No food, no water. We’re going to die. I hope you’re happy, Goldie.”

“This is the poorer side of town, Stasis,” Major explained. “It should only take a few minutes to get home if we hurry.”

“We won’t be able to hurry after societal outcasts break our legs,” Stasis explained.

“Stasis is just a big chicken,” Goldie claimed.

“This situation would be a lot better if you were a big chicken,” Stasis said, his stomach growling. He’d run out of peppermint sticks hours ago.

Major made as if to go up to the grungy tenement, but then hesitated.

“What did you say you did again, Stasis?” Major asked. “If I’m going to say I’m sorry, I guess I should probably know what I’m sorry about.”

Stasis gave an exasperated sigh. “I didn’t do anything. I just spoke a few words to her, is all. A few stray words, easily misinterpreted. I don’t see why everypony is making such a big deal about this.”

“He blackmailed her,” Goldie added.

“Oh, shut up!” Stasis snapped. “You only know that word because I used it first!”

“Why did you do that, Stasis?” Major asked. “Did Abra do something mean to you first?”

“Um…no,” Stasis admitted. “But I thought that…um….”

“Um what?” Major asked.

“Stasis is just a bad pony, is all,” Goldie explained. “He never thinks of anypony but himself.”

Stasis glared at her. He thought of other ponies, all right; right now he was thinking of Goldie, stuck at the top of a tall, tall tower. How long would it take for her hair to grow long enough for ponies to rappel up? He wanted to find out.

“I just thought that…I just thought that….” Stasis shook his head. “You know what? I don’t even care what I thought. I was trying to protect you, but if this is the thanks that I get, then Abra can have you all to herself. She’ll be begging me to take you back inside a week, Major. You’ll see.”

“…Huh?”

Stasis sighed. “Just forget it. Go and apologize now, so we can get out of here and go back home.”

“No, you need to do it,” said Goldie. “You’re the one who was mean, so you’re the one who needs to say that you’re sorry.”

“What do you know?” Stasis questioned. “Anyway, Major already volunteered.”

Major frowned and gave Stasis a stern look. “You know, Stasis, maybe ponies would like you more if you said that you were sorry after you hurt their feelings.”

Stasis glared at Major, and then at Goldie. He shook his hoof at the two recalcitrant ponies. “You know what I’m sorry about? I’m sorry that ponies don’t have more feelings for me to hurt. I’m sorry that there’s only twenty-four hours in a day to cause trouble in. I’m sorry that I’m all the way out here, in the middle of nowhere, apologizing for something that I’d do again if I had half a chance!”

“You’re horrible,” said Goldie. “You’re horrible. Major and I should just leave you here alone so that you can think about how horrible you are.”

“I don’t think that you really mean all those things you say, Stasis. You probably just say stuff like that because you’re angry, but I think that you can actually be a really good pony if you try hard.”

“No, he can’t. He was probably supposed to be a good pony, but then he got broke somehow. You’re a broken pony, Stasis.”

“I really wish that you would try to be nicer to other ponies, Stasis,” said Major. “You won’t make very many friends by being mean to them, and my dad says that friendship is magic and –“

“Stop!” yelled Stasis. He rubbed his temples with both hooves for a few moments.

“You two…you two. You two are going to kill me. ‘Murder by suicide,’ they’re going to call it.”

“I’m sorry, Stasis. I wasn’t trying to kill you,” apologized Major.

“You’re mean to other ponies, but really you’re just a big crybaby,” said Goldie.

“Look,” he began. “If I apologize to Abra instead of Major, can we just forget that this whole thing ever even happened?”

“Forget what?” asked Major.

“I’ll never forget,” stated Goldie.

“You know what I just realized? I hate both of you.” Stasis began walking towards Abra’s door.

“Wait!” shouted Major.

“What is it, Major?” demanded Stasis. “I’m doing what you want me to! That makes you one of two ponies to ever boss me around, and the other one made his reputation through the mutation and cremation of the unborn!”

“…I don’t know who the other pony is, Stasis, but you can’t say you’re sorry unless you mean it,” Major declared. “It doesn’t count if you don’t mean it.”

“Says who!”

“My –“

“Dad!” Stasis exclaimed, facehoofing. “Your dad told you! Of course.”

Major looked thoughtful. “You know, my dad used to spank me when I was bad to teach me not to be. Maybe if you spank yourself when you’re bad, it will make you feel sorry for being bad in the first place.”

Stasis shook his head. “Major, that’s the stupidest – ow! He said that I was supposed to spank myself, Goldie!”

“I was just doing that ‘cause you deserve it,” Goldie explained.

“If you weren’t a girl pony, I would so hit you right now,” Stasis snarled.

“Maybe my idea wasn’t as good as I thought it was,” Major mused.

“I hate both of you,” Stasis reminded them. “Now, I’m going to go say I’m sorry to Abra, and I’m not going to mean it at all, and there’s nothing that either of you can do about it!”

Stasis marched towards the door to the pony building. He knocked on the door, and waited.

A minute or two passed. He could feel the expectant stares of the two ponies on his back. He knocked again. And waited. And knocked again.

Just as he was on the verge of calling down all forms of horrible curses on the ponies and all their houses, the door opened.

“What?” asked an older mare, looking down at Stasis.

…Or at least, she appeared to be an older mare at first glance. On the second, she just looked a bit ill-cared for. Her coat had lost its sheen, her mane and tail were quite obviously unbrushed, and her expression was one of impolite disinterest.

“You’re not Abra,” Stasis noted.

The mare looked over her shoulder. “Abra!” she yelled. “Somepony’s here for you!”

The door shut in Stasis’ face.

Just because he was a wicked little changeling didn’t mean that he couldn’t also be a patient little changeling, when the need arose. He decided to wait a few more moments before taking any further action, such as knocking again, or perhaps breaking a window.

As he was scoping out all the nearby rocks of appreciable size, however, the door opened once more, and a certain boring-brown filly looked out at him, her eyes red-rimmed and angry.

“Abra. I wanted –“

The door slammed in his face. He frowned and looked back at Major.

“You gotta be persistent!” shouted the orange colt.

Stasis muttered a few mild curses in the old tongue as he knocked on the door once more.

“Leave me alone!” came a muffled shout from inside.

“You open this door right now, you –“

“Nice words, Stasis!” called out Major. “Nice words!”

“I’m going to apologize the way I want to apologize!” Stasis yelled back over his shoulder. Turning back to the door, he cleared his throat.

“Listen, Abra, the quicker you open this door, the quicker we can get this over with.”

“Go away, you creepy little stalker!”

“I did not come all the way out here for nothing, Abra! I’m going to apologize to you, face-to-face, whether you like it or not!” Stasis shouted back. “I’ll stay out here all night if I have to! I’ll stand here until I’m dead and buried, and then I’ll rise from the grave and stand here again! And when my bones are dust, I’ll stand in your dreams and –“

The door cracked open, and Stasis could just barely see one of Abra’s eyes peek out of the ill-lit space beyond.

“You think that I’m going to fall for some stupid trick like this? You’re never sorry. No matter how many times I tell you to stop, you just won’t leave me alone!”

“Well, maybe I wasn’t sorry,” Stasis admitted. “But these other ponies are sorry, and they’ve been doing nothing for hours but make me feel sorry too. So…um….”

“Just say ‘I’m sorry!’” shouted Major. “I’m! Sorry!”

“It’s not as easy as it sounds!” Stasis shouted back.

“Slap him, Abra! Slap him!” shouted Goldie.

Stasis turned back to Abra, who did not remind him so much of a skilled seductress right now as an angry, red-eyed cyclops, staring at him hungrily from her dark cave. He cleared his throat.

“Well, Abra, I guess that I’m kind of sorry that I blackmailed you and tried to force you out of the play. It seemed like a really good idea at the time. And I’m not sorry about all the other things. You just don’t have a very good sense of humor.”

Abra’s expression turned from angry to angrier and incredulous. “That’s it? You came all the way here for that?”

“I really, really hope so,” Stasis said, turning back and looking at his companion.

“Ask her if she’ll still rehearse with us!” shouted Major.

“That was never part of the deal!” Stasis shouted back. “You only said that I had to apologize! You never said that I had to actually un-blackmail her!”

“I’m right. Here,” said Abra.

Stasis rolled his eyes and turned back to Abra. “Whatever. Come back to the play if you want, Abra. Why should I need to waste all my time trying to embarrass you with false rumors when I can just let you embarrass yourself instead?”

“Please keep coming to the play, Abra!” shouted Major. “Stasis won’t be mean to you anymore!”

The door slowly creaked open, and Abra walked up to Stasis. She seemed a lot taller now, right in front of him. In broad daylight.

“False rumors? What do you mean, false rumors?” she asked slowly, looking down at him.

Stasis rubbed the back of his neck. “Well, you know… I could have broken into Miss Brighten’s office and looked in her records. Or I could just lie about it and say that I had. I feel like I really saved a lot of time this way,” he explained. “I’m pretty sure that you did better than me on the exams, anyway. I only learned how to read a few months ago.”

Abra jabbed one hoof at Stasis. “I…I…I hate you, you know that? I hate you. I’m not a bad pony, but…one way or another, I’m going to get back at you for…for how terrible you’ve been to me! You understand? I’m going to get back at you for every. Single. Thing!” she yelled, slamming the door once more in Stasis’ face.

Stasis waited for a few moments. The silence began to grow awkward.

“Does…this mean that you forgive me?” asked Stasis.

“No!” came a muffled shout.

Stasis turned and went back to his companion, plus Goldie.

“Well…I tried,” he said, shrugging. “This is another reason why I shouldn’t ever apologize. I don’t think that I’m very good at it.”

“Do you think that she’ll come to rehearsal tomorrow?” asked Major worriedly.

“We can come and see if she’s feeling better tomorrow,” said Goldie. “But without Stasis.”

“What’s this ‘we’ business?” demanded Stasis. “There is no ‘we.’ There is no ‘us.’ There’s just a me, and a Major, and if there is a ‘we,’ it certainly doesn’t include any Goldies.”

“I don’t think that you should be friends with Stasis anymore,” said Goldie. “Stasis doesn’t deserve any friends.”

“Major is my companion. I don’t know what you are; you’re not even worthy to be my enemy. You’re not even my acquaintance. You’re more like one of those blind ponies who sit by the side of the road and play music while everypony just feels sorry for them and tries not to get too close.”

“I know what will make you feel better. We should have a sleepover at my house, Major. My dad has snacks that we can eat, and we can tell stories and play games. But Stasis can’t come.”

“You know what would be fun, Major? Let’s ditch Goldie. We can go to my house and eat cookies while we imagine her out here, all alone, miles and miles from salvation as dusk turns to night and the monsters come out to feed….”

“Do you think that Abra is feeling any better now? She still looked really upset. Do you think that maybe I should go say that I’m sorry, too?”

“She’s fine, Major. She’s not really sad anymore, she’s just angry. She’ll probably come to every rehearsal from now on, just to spite me.”

“I’m not like Stasis; I like Abra. I’m always nice to her.”

“You are such a sycophant.”

“You’re stupid.”

“Stop using my word!”

“Could you guys please stop arguing? It’s giving me a headache, and I’m still worried about Abra.”

Stasis wrapped one hoof around his companion’s shoulder. “Listen, Major, this is really not that complicated. You see, I don’t have any other companions, which makes you my only companion in the whole wide world. Which means that you’re really, really special. But look over there at Goldie! Look at how small and white and adorable she is! Doesn’t she just make you want to pick her up and cuddle her? I mean, her name is Goldie, for Discord’s sake. She’s probably got a bajillion friends. There’s nothing special about her at all.”

“I don’t have any friends anymore,” said Goldie quietly. “Except for Mr. Top-hat, but he’s just a doll.”

Stasis dropped his hoof off Major’s shoulder. “Well…” he stammered. “Umm….”

“Okay, that’s it. You two need to start being nice to each other, right now!” demanded Major.

“But…how can I be nice to somepony who’s so –“

“Aaat!” shouted Major. “Were you about to say nice words, Stasis?”

“No….” Stasis pouted.

“Stasis is –“

“Aaat!” shouted Major. “Were you about to say nice words, Goldie?”

She scuffed the ground with one hoof. “Probably not,” she admitted.

Major glared them both into silence. After a few quiet moments, he said, “My dad says that if you can’t think of nice things to say, then don’t say anything at all. And from now on, I’m friends with both of you, and there’s nothing that either of you can do or say that’s going to change my mind about that!”

“I think it cheapens friendship to be giving it out to just anypony who walks in off the street,” Stasis said.

“But…are you really going to stay my friend, Major? Even…even when Stasis says mean things about me?” asked Goldie, looking at the orange colt plaintively.

Major nodded. “Yep! I don’t understand a lot of what he says, anyway.”

“Look, there’s a hobo. Why don’t we go ask if he wants to be our friend? Or that thorn-bush? It’s probably lonely.”

“We should…we should go home now,” said Goldie quietly, suddenly looking smaller and more demure. “It’s starting to get dark. My dad’s probably really worried about me….”

“Who cares?” Stasis questioned sensibly. “Anyway, who put you in charge?”

“Hey! Maybe we should vote!” exclaimed Major. “I always wanted to vote, but Stasis would never let me do it when it was just the two of us.”

Stasis rolled his eyes. “You live in an autocracy, Major. What do you know about voting?”

“I live in a…huh?”

“I say that I should get to make all the decisions, just like Celestia,” said Stasis.

“You’re not a princess, Stasis,” said Goldie.

“I’m a…well, I’m almost as good as one of your princesses, anyway.”

Major rubbed the back of his neck. “Well…maybe we can vote on whether we should be an auto-crassy or whether we should…um…vote.”

Stasis snorted. “Didn’t you pay any any attention during history class, Major? Autocrats aren’t voted for. They’re born. Or they seize control! Bwahahahahaha!”

“Stasis is a bad pony; don’t listen to him, Major. We should just all get equal votes like normal ponies,” said Goldie.

“I’m only voting if my vote is more equal than yours,” Stasis declared.

“Maybe three ponies is too many for everypony to agree on things,” Major mused.

“Two is too many, when one of those ponies is Stasis,” said Goldie.

“I don’t need you two to agree. I just need you to do what I say.”

“I’m hungry, and it’s really late. I think that maybe I’m going to go home, and you guys can follow if you want to,” said Major, who began walking back towards Star Swirl’s side of town.

“I think that my cutie-mark is going to be in despotism,” said Stasis as he ran after Major, getting excited at the thought. “I’m going to start with you two. If a pony can’t rule his companions, who can he rule? That’s what I think.”

“I still think that Abra should have slapped you,” said Goldie. Turning to Major, she asked, “Is he always this bad?”

“Yeah, kinda.”

“Bwahahahahahaha!”

Of Siblings and Sorcerers

Stasis glared at the little filly as she sat there, her long yellow tail held loosely in one hoof. He glared as she bounced it to the other hoof, and then back to the first. Back and forth, back and forth she bounced, his glare increasing with every transition, trying to oppress her through sheer willpower alone.

After a few minutes she turned and looked at him, her white face creasing with a frown.

“What? Why are you looking at me like that?”

He glared harder.

She shook her tail at him. “You better stop looking at me like that, Stasis, or your face’s going to get stuck.”

“Good,” he snapped. “Glaring at you this hard isn’t easy, and if my face gets stuck, it’ll save me a lot of work.”

“What’s the matter, anyway?” she asked. “You look like you gotta go to the bathroom or something.”

Stasis snorted angrily. “Oh, I was just remembering the good old days, when I would wait here at the theater for Major.”

“But…aren’t we waiting for Major right now?” the yellow-maned filly asked inanely.

“Yeah, that’s what we’re doing now. I was remembering a long lost age when I used to wait for him. Blissfully alone. A time when random fillies didn’t violate my personal space.”

“What? Look, I left tons of room!” she claimed, reaching one hoof towards him and waving it back and forth, as if demonstrating the truly immense amount of unviolated personal space between them.

“Maybe that’s enough for normal ponies, but I need lots of personal space. Lots of personal space. Most of the time, I don’t even like to be in the same room as other ponies. Especially fillies. Major was telling me about cooties the other day, you know. It explains so many things. I can practically feel your cooties spreading through the air, seeping into my lungs, hunting down every last scrap of masculinity and self-respect that I have and replacing it with make-up and mindless chatter.”

Goldie reached over and tapped him on one foreleg.

He jerked the appendage back and rubbed it. “Hey! Stop that!”

She turned around and flicked her tail, sending its cootie-infested tendrils swishing back and forth across his strong, chiseled face.

He fell backwards, hacking and coughing and waving his forelegs frantically, trying to clear the air of the potent virus.

“What are you doing? You maniac!” he yelled between coughs.

“Colts are stupid,” stated Goldie matter-of-factly.

“No, you’re stu –“ He stopped abruptly as she snapped her tail at him in warning. He glared at her.

“Don’t think this means that you’ve won, Goldie. If I turn into a girl, there’ll be no social conventions left to save you from my wrath.”

Goldie rolled her eyes. “You’re just a meanie and a bully, Stasis. I’m not scared. I know that nice, good ponies like Major and Pierce will protect me from jerks like you.”

Stasis stood up and brushed himself off, meanwhile inspecting his body closely for outbreaks of femininity. “How dare you,” he said. “How dare you. Using Major like that for your own selfish ends…you should be ashamed of yourself.”

Goldie looked around, her ears perking up as she inspected the area. “Where is Major, anyway? Do you think that he’s okay? Do you think that maybe something happened to him?”

“I don’t know. Maybe he got up caught up fighting a monster to protect some little filly too lazy to do her own fighting, and now he’s dead. How does that make you feel, Goldie?”

“Stop it, Stasis,” the weak, defenseless pony child dared command him. “Don’t say stuff like that. Isn’t he normally here by now?”

Stasis gazed at the object of his disaffection out of the corner of his eye as he replied, “He used to be. That was before you jammed yourself into our companionship like a third nostril. In fact, I’m thinking of dividing my life into BG and AG: Before Goldie and After Goldie. The time of food and love for all, and the time when we just want to slather ourselves with lard and wait for something to eat us.”

Whatever response Goldie might have had was cut off as Major walked up and sat down between them. Stasis, an ever-perceptive little changeling, noted Major’s downcast expression and red eyes, and he frowned. He opened his mouth to inquire as to the orange pony’s emotional turbulence.

“What’s wrong, Major?” Goldie asked.

Stasis leaned around Major and tried to slay the little yellow-maned filly with his glare of death.

Major sniffed. “It’s nothing, you guys.”

“You can tell me,” said Goldie.

“She’s a snake. Tell me instead,” said Stasis.

Major shifted, not meeting the eyes of either of his companions. “Well, I saw some of my old friends at the park, and asked if I could play with them for a few minutes before I had to come to rehearsal…but….”

“What happened?” prompted Goldie.

“Did you get hurt?” asked Stasis, having never forgotten the dangers of the little red Frisbee in the wrong hooves. Hooves like his.

“No…the guys at the park…they made fun of me. They said that I was too stupid to play with them anymore. They said that I should go play with all my little kiddie friends instead.”

Goldie gasped. “That’s horrible!”
Stasis stood up and shook one hoof angrily in the direction that he imagined the park to be. “’Little kiddie?’ Why don’t you say that to my face, cowards!”

“You’re not stupid, Major. You’re a really smart pony; you’re just not so good at school. Lots of ponies aren’t good at school.”

Stasis turned back to his morose companion. “There’s only one proper response to this, Major. Only one way to make it all right again.”

Major wiped at one eye. “Huh? What’s that?”

“Vengeance.”

Goldie looked towards the heavens. “Ugh! No! Don’t ever listen to anything that pony says, Major. Never, ever, ever.”

“We shall cleanse your pain with the soothing salve of retribution, Major. You’ll like it, I promise.”

Major shook his head. “No, it’s okay, Stasis. I don’t know why some ponies say mean things like that, but my dad says that I should forgive them and not let myself get angry about the things that they do to me.”

Goldie smiled. “See? You’re much nicer than those ponies at the park. You wouldn’t really want them as friends, anyway.”

Stasis rubbed the back of his neck. “Major, I’m…not sure I really understand where our vengeance fits into your plan.”

Major reached out and put a foreleg around the shoulders of each of his companions. Stasis flinched from the contact.

“I know I really shouldn’t be so upset, though. I’ve still got you two as my very best friends, and I know that that’s two more very best friends than many ponies have.”

“I’m your very best friend?” asked Goldie, looking up into the orange pony’s eyes.

“No, you’re practically a stranger, and could you please, please stop touching me, Major?” Stasis pleaded, his body almost quivering with tension.

“Oh. I’m sorry, Stasis,” Major said, retracting the offending foreleg. “And…um…I kind of already promised Stasis that he was my very best friend, but maybe you can my very second best friend?” he asked Goldie hopefully.

The white-and-yellow filly looked down at the floor and scuffed the planks with her hoof. “Um…sure. Okay. That’s fine.”

“Well, if we’re not going to get to do anything violent anyway, then I guess that forgiveness probably is the best answer,” Stasis admitted. “But that still leaves us with another, far more serious problem.”

“What problem is that, Stasis?” Major asked concernedly.

“My cutie-mark,” Stasis stated.

Goldie blew a raspberry.

“How can we help?” asked Major.

“You can’t,” Stasis admitted. “Your cutie-mark is a suit, and Goldie’s flank is as blank as could be, so I’m pretty sure that any help that you could give would be worthless at best.”

“Not listening,” Goldie chanted. “Not listening to you, Stasis.”

“So…um…why did you bring it up?” Major asked, looking puzzled.

Stasis shrugged. “I was just telling you what our number-one concern should be right now. I didn’t say anything about either of you actually being able to do anything about it.”

“Ugh,” grunted Goldie. “Just…ugh.”

“I’m sure that we can help somehow, Stasis. Maybe we could try going to a really fancy restaurant?” Major suggested.

“No!” Stasis exclaimed. “Never. I would rather die.”

Goldie frowned. “Wait. What’s so bad about fancy restaurants?”

“I want a cutie-mark that’s impressive and distinctive, but doesn’t draw too much attention to itself. Unfortunately, that rules out almost any kind of weapon or emblem of royalty that I can think of,” Stasis mused.

“You don’t get to decide what your cutie-mark is, Stasis. That’s not how it works,” posited Goldie. “Anyway, knowing you, it’ll probably be something stupid and mean and horrible.”

Stasis rolled his eyes. “I’m not like you, Goldie. I’m not going to just wait like a good little girl until destiny gets around to giving me my due.” He narrowed his eyes, picturing fate and the cosmos before him. “No, I’m going to grab it and wring its skinny little neck until it gives me what’s mine!” he growled, reaching out with his hooves and doing just that.

Goldie’s eyes flicked back and forth between Stasis and his metaphysical prey. “…I think maybe your momma dropped you on your head or something when you were a baby,” she hypothesized. “Anyway, you’ve still got to wait for your cutie-mark, just like everypony else. My…my momma told me that you’ve just got to keep trying new things and be patient and –“

“Patient!” Stasis snorted, cutting her off. “I’m tired of being patient; being patient takes too long. No, just you watch, Goldie – I’m going to get my mark, and soon. Very soon. Destiny won’t keep me waiting any longer!”

“You know, Stasis, you might find that destiny would be more willing to help you if you were nicer to it,” Major suggested.

Goldie closed her eyes and shook her head silently.

Stasis scoffed. Destiny. What was his destiny, really? To be back in the forest, learning proper speech, and how to defend himself, and all about the ponies? He knew more now about…well…pretty much everything, than his siblings could ever dream! He had battled ponies and plants alike in mortal combat! He had infiltrated the heck out of these ponies!

He didn’t need to follow his destiny. Destiny was his plaything now.

“Hey! Look!” cried Major. “It’s Abra!”

Sure enough, a certain boring-brown filly was standing on the opposite end of the stage, shooting the little changeling a look that, had he been a mere pony, probably would have peeled away his psyche like a little defenseless potater, bit by bit, sliver by sliver, until all that was left was an irregular white ovoid of despair and abject terror. As it was, he waved back.

“You should go talk to her,” Goldie suggested.

“What? Do you really think so?” Major asked hesitantly.

“No,” Stasis counter-suggested.

“Sure! You can ask her if she’s okay, and say you’re sorry again for Stasis,” Goldie continued.

“She doesn’t look very happy…” Major worried.

“She probably only hates Stasis. Only Stasis deserves to be hated,” claimed Goldie.

“I drink her hate like Mother’s milk!” Stasis proclaimed proudly, feeling delightfully blasphemous.

Goldie’s nose wrinkled. “What? Ew! You’re disgusting!”

“Okay…well, you guys wait for me, alright?” Major said, beginning to make his way around the edge of the stage.

“We will,” Goldie promised.

“I’m not responsible for what happens if you leave me alone with Goldie!” Stasis warned, but the orange pony was already too far away to hear. Stasis sat on his haunches and crossed his forelegs over his chest, pouting. Ponies were worthless. They didn’t care about him at all.

Minutes passed, Stasis glaring at the floor before him, letting his mind wander. Old daydreams, of age and power and Stasisgrad, just didn’t satisfy him right then. He wanted to be doing something more fun than communing with his own imagination, and right now his only fun-multiplier had yet to finish frolicking with the fillies. That foolish, fickle fink.

Of course, he could try to do something productive and try to figure out a good cutie-mark…but just thinking about that made him even more frustrated. He should just stick a fruity flower or a butterfly-shaped cloud or something on his hiney and be done with it. He was never going to think of anything both cool and unsuspicious. It might be impossible. There was probably some law of cutie-markness that stated that one could never possess a mark that was both impressive and did not also scream, ‘Hey, I’m a changeling, feed me to your guards!’ to every passerby.

No, he just wanted to get his stupid mark and be done with it. Then Pierce would realize that Stasis was a pony’s pony, and would get back to minding his own business.

He tapped one hoof against the floor in frustration before finally deigning to glance over at Goldie. She seemed to be zoning out as well. He wondered briefly what it was she thinking about, before reminding himself that he really didn’t care.

She must have seen his look out of the corner of her eye, because she said, “Hey, Stasis?”

“What?”

“Are you really an orphan?”

He stared at her. “Wh-why do you ask? I mean, that’s kind of a strange thing to ask out of the blue, isn’t it?”

She just stared down at the floor in front of her hooves. “I asked Major where you came from. He said that you were an orphan, and I shouldn’t bring it up since you didn’t like to talk about it, but…” she trailed off.

“It’s not that big a deal, the being-orphaned thing,” he protested, really, really not liking the direction that this conversation was going. “That happened months and months ago. I’d practically forgotten all about it.”

“Did the changelings kill them?” she asked softly.

“…I’m sure that it was an accident,” he said. “I’m sure that they weren’t trying to kill anypony….”

She looked at him, her pale pink eyes suddenly looking surprisingly hard for a probably-seven-year-old pony filly. “Just because you’re an orphan doesn’t mean that you get to be a jerk, you know,” she said sternly. “You don’t get to be mean just because bad stuff’s happened to you. Bad stuff happens to lots of ponies, not just you.”

“I…well, who asked you?” he snapped. “Anyway, I was wicked long before I was an orphan. You’re the one who brought up the whole orphan thing, not me!”

“I’m not going to feel sorry for you or be nice to you because you’re an orphan, either. I saw how you’re mean to Abra, and to me, and even to Major. I’m not going to be nice to you, because you’re never nice to anypony else,” she warned.

He looked around himself, as if searching for who she could possibly be talking to. “What are you talking about? I never asked you to be nice to me in the first place!” he protested. “Besides, if you were just nice to me because I was an orphan, that’d probably be pity, and I need your pity even less than I need your niceness. That’s one reason I don’t bring up the whole orphan-thing. The last thing I need is for all of you to feel sorry for me.”

Goldie looked away from him then, and resumed staring at the floor.

He frowned. “Hey, Goldie…are you alright? You’re acting kind of weird…er.”

“I’m fine. I just…I need to go to the bathroom,” she said, standing up and walking off the stage. Stasis watched her go.

…That’s not how she acts every time she has to take a tinkle, is it? Discord’s tooth. This may be worse than I thought.

He waited there silently for a few minutes, but Major still looked to be doing his best to engage Abra in conversation, and Goldie still hadn’t come back. He wondered briefly if she might need help of some kind, and decided that if she did, he hoped she’d get it.

Trying to flush that thought from his mind, he focused on the colts and fillies practicing in the center of the stage. Several princesses seemed to have lost their poise and, crowns in mouths, were bludgeoning a pair of wizards who were somehow tangled up in their own robes and trying to drag themselves away with their forehooves as they shouted apologies at the vengeful royalty.

Something caught the little changeling’s eye. Multiple pieces of scenery had been brought out to the stage, to give the technicians practice setting up the scenes. Partially hidden behind the scenery he noticed a strange, small rack. It was made of a thin, grey metal wire that looked to have been braided into a crude rope and then formed into a stand for two…two….

…Faces? Two faces, each looked to be carved from a dark wood with simple, deft strokes. Though there were holes for the eyes and mouth, the holes were shaped so as to convey strong emotion. One face had slightly narrowed eyes and a mocking smirk, while the other looked pained, its mouth open in a grimace. Stasis noted that both mouths had two little outcrops hanging down from the upper lip that, had he not known any better, he would surely have thought to be fangs.

“A bit of an unusual specimen, isn’t it?”

Stasis would have jumped, but for a creature born and raised in the forest, getting startled by fat city ponies like this so often was getting embarrassing. Instead, he just looked over at Jack questioningly.

“Shouldn’t you be dealing with that?” he asked, pointing at the growing melee in the center of the stage. The wizards had stopped moving, and the black knights were now doing battle with the princesses, who had apparently called upon their maidservants for aid. Stasis was impressed to see one filly trying to strangle a plate armor-clad colt with a garland of petunias.

“Yes,” Jack admitted, chewing his noxious weed a little bit faster. “I picked those up on a peregrination to Quagga, many years ago now.”

It took a moment for Stasis to realize that Jack was talking about the faces, not the petunias, and then he stared at the raggedy oldish pony. “You went to Quagga?”

Jack glanced down at him. “Is that really so surprising?”

“Yes,” Stasis said firmly.

Jack nodded. “I suppose I can see why one might think so. Certainly I’m too old and worn to attempt such an adventure today, and I cannot leave my beloved theater. But when I was a young stallion, I had a deep desire to see the world, almost as deep as my desire to get out from under my father’s heavy-hoofed oppression. I found the modern university’s appreciation for culture too…isolated. Too sterilized. All the dramatists reviewed and produced the same plays, all drew from the same sources of inspiration. What was new was much the same as the old. I was interested in foreign culture, the works produced by minds much different than our own…minotaurs. Crystal ponies. Even gryphons.”

Turning again, Jack gave Stasis a serious look. “Did you know that gryphons have a history of plays and Roscian arts stretching back thousands of years? You wouldn’t know it from a visit to the department of drama at Manehattan University. Oh, of course they have a small division devoted to foreign studies, but it’s horribly anemic. A mere token to pluralism.”

The earth pony shook his head. “I fear that this is a widely-overlooked side-effect of our liberation from the mad god’s rule. In our efforts to protect ourselves militarily, we have developed a monolithic culture that, as my adventures revealed, is little appreciated by many of the world’s denizens. Like an inbred noble house, we grow weaker generation by generation as our ideas moulder…or perhaps a better example would be a hermetic child, perfectly healthy to the eye, but ready to fall at the first sign of infection. What damage has our isolation caused to the metaphysical fabric of our society? What will happen when the bubble that we have erected is pricked?”

“…You were saying something about Quagga?” Stasis queried. He had only the vaguest idea of what Jack was talking about, but as far as he was concerned, any curse on the ponies was a blessing for the changelings.

Jack nodded. “Yes, I was. Discussions with my fellow artists revealed a number that felt as I do, and together we decided to do our part to learn more of the world around us, and all its peoples. My father was a clever businesspony as well as a patron of the arts, and from the proceeds of a successful theater – the less we discuss that particular point, the better – he was able to fund our trip around the world…or at least, around some of Equestria’s immediate neighbors. Even we were not so brave as to risk the…hmm…’wilder’ lands outside of Equestria’s sphere of influence. I would have liked to have seen the minotaurian empire with my own two eyes, but as I am about to explain, we never did make it that far.

“We traversed the gryphons’ eyries to the east first…a surprisingly halcyon species, if you treat them and their ways with respect, and avoid the more traditionalist factions. We learned enough of the local dialects to impress our guides – so hard on the tongue, the gryphon dialects – and never strayed from the areas recommended by the embassy. That being said, we were more than mere tourists, even going so far as to participate in a few local theater productions. I dare say that the local playwrights, to most of whom Equestria is but an estranged and irresistible neighbor, were delighted to collaborate with their equine brothers, and vice-versa. There was a time or two when I thought I might be eaten, but in hindsight I think those merchants and paupers were more interested in the wealth in my purse than the wealth in my belly.

“The Crystal Kingdom to the north was an enjoyable vacation, but that is all it was: a vacation. The lives and fates of the ponies there are so intertwined with our own that they might as well be the last province of Equestria, the Crystal King and Queen its glorified governors. The Fair was an impressive spectacle, as was the Heart, but my friends and I soon agreed to cut short our visit. Mere beauty and grace were not enough; we were looking for new cultures and new ideas, and our northern neighbor has done far too effective a job at aligning its own interests with ours to be of use in that regard.

“It was then to the fabled and feared zebra homeland of Quagga that we turned to next. I must admit, I was trepidatious; despite what my inquiries had revealed, I still couldn’t help but imagine a land of striped ponies, savages dwelling in huts and swimming in sickness and ignorance.

“I am glad to say that I was wrong…quite wrong. The capitol city itself was stunning, not as an example of architecture or engineering, as certain of the minotaurian cities are said to be. It was the size; small palaces for the nobility in the center of the city, with buildings and residences of every caliber sprawled out on both sides of the river Acheron which sustains the city. The wealthy built their grand mansions and servant’s quarters from cypress wood floated down on barges from the vast lumber camps far to the north. The poor used adobe to construct much more modest, but surprisingly comfortable homes. All in all, it was a treat merely visiting the city, seeing the zebra folk dressed in their strange robes as they bustled about in the market places – who would have thought that clothing could help one stay cooler? – while trading and haggling over goods that I often could neither recognize nor pronounce.

“Still, that was not the reason we had come, and it took hardly any time at all for many of the wealthy and nobles to invite us to their homes, serving us delicacies such as watermelon and fruit cordial, chilled with ice brought up in blocks from the far north during winter and packed in sawdust in great underground cellars through the rest of the year.”

“Why didn’t they just use magic?” queried Stasis.

“They’re zebras. They have none…or at least, the ones that I met had very little. That is the strange part of Quagga, its dichotomy…you see, there are actually two very distinct groups of zebras in their homeland. The first is the one I just told you about: the wealthy and the nobility – almost always the same zebras – appeared almost desperate in their desire to impress us, foreigners of hardly any distinction. You see, only a few centuries ago, the zebras were for the most part just as tribal and illiterate as I had imagined them to be. Not to say that they didn’t have their own magics and culture – but those magics and culture were stagnant, and few lived in villages big enough to be considered cities by Equestrian standards. Only the capitol and its sheik were a government of any importance, and it was all he could do to keep the cities and lands along the river under his control. Some ambitious young sheik would be born and try to subdue the plains and grasslands farther out, but then he would die and some lesser son would always lose them again.

“When the princesses came to power, however, that began to change. As their influence spread, they began to give gifts to the zebras, sending ponies to teach them modern technologies and techniques for everything from military discipline to government organization to farming techniques. Of course, on maps in those days, we did not list the multitude of factions and tribes scattered across the whole region; no, there was only ‘Quagga,’ and as any proper nation, it had to have a government, and it was to that government that these gifts were given. In a few generations, the sheik went from being an occasionally deadly nuisance to his neighbors to being the possessor of the first modern military force that that part of the world had seen since the invasions of the minotaurian empire in ancient times, and he had a will to use it. The tribals, meanwhile, received nothing but death and slavery at the point of Equestrian-forged spears.

“That was why those nobles were so eager to impress us – their own sons being the only ones wealthy enough to attend modern universities, they assumed that we were also ponies of high standing. They were also painfully aware that the wealth and power that their families have acquired these last few centuries have all come at the hooves of Equestrian beneficence, leading them to wish to prove that they are our equals. Indeed, many outright asked me to tell other Equestrians of their wealth and prosperity when I returned to Equestria, as if the word of one art student would somehow shape public opinion. Had I not also seen the brands of the slaves in the fields and courts of the rich, I would have been more inclined to at least try.”

“They keep slaves?” Stasis asked, only vaguely familiar with the concept. Changelings came, they took, and they left. Every pony town and village was its own farm, and tended itself. Changelings need only harvest the fruit.

“Indeed, although they seemed anxious to hide the fact, either from having heard of Equestrian disgust with the practice or seeing it etched on our faces. But the brands were there to see, and although a few of the slaves we saw were powerful and important zebras in their own right, there were many more in the fields and mines and lumber camps that were treated as little more than animals. Somehow, the increase in power for the central government has led already-assimilated zebras to view the ‘wild’ tribals with increasing disdain, to the point where there now exists almost a perpetual state of war between the two factions. The sheik possesses modern armies and infrastructure, while the remaining tribals are rumored to possess an almost supernatural bond with their mountain and jungle homes, an often-startling amount of warrior prowess, and full access to those ancient magics that are uniquely zebra. It is even said that they have formed pacts with some of the other denizens of their lands, including a few younger dragons as well as the changelings of which we have been so recently afeared. That is one of the follies of the sheik: in suppressing and disparaging the tribals, he has caused his government and his people to abandon their ties to the land and forget nearly everything their ancestors knew of alchemy, conjuring, divination…a terrible price for their modernity and success.”

Stasis blinked. Changelings, fighting alongside zebras? He had never heard of such a thing – the unspoken philosophy was that changelings must love changelings, since no one else seemed up to the task. Not voluntarily, anyway. But then…perhaps it was not farfetched that other families might form alliances with fellow forest-and-jungle dwelling, technology-apathetic outcasts, like these ‘tribal’ zebras. Anyway, it was not as if his kind had ‘migrations’ or reunions in which to meet and discuss how things were going or what they were doing. Before he came to Trottingham, his understanding of how the rest of the world worked, including his relatives, was vague at best.

Jack continued, oblivious to the goings-on in the little changeling’s mind. “Of course, as fascinating as their sociology might be, that was not the purpose for which we were there. We studied the zebras’ arts and drama, yes, and it was good – but I had traveled hundreds of leagues to see the ways of the tribals with my own two eyes, and seeing them was what I was going to do. I made inquiries, but was rebuffed at every turn, both by the Equestrian embassy which feared for my safety, and the zebra nobility who seemed intent that I despise their ‘wild’ brethren with as much passion as they did. After all, understanding often breeds empathy, and empathy is often the antidote to hate.

“Well, the more they tried to persuade me to give up my quest, the more determined I was to finish it. Even my friends, worn and homesick after many months of travel, begged me to stay with them and prepare for the return journey, but I would have none of it. Since the zebra government had taken steps to hinder me from using any standard route to the lands of the tribals – how important I felt, to have a foreign sovereignty working against me specifically! – I was forced to use more clandestine methods. With help from my loyal guide, I bribed an officer in the army – amazing, how prevalent and even accepted corruption is in certain societies and governments – into allowing me to travel with his company down to the far south, where the grassland gives way to jungle. A bit of a trek, true, but I was assured that the tribals there were as wild and vivacious as any I would find anywhere. Foolish, naïve me.”

“Did something happen?” asked Stasis.

Jack nodded, giving his weed a few absent chews. “Indeed. What was I thinking, accompanying a military expedition to a veritable warzone when all I wanted was to discuss art and acting and native customs? I had chosen quite possibly the worst possible way to go about achieving my goals, and I was swift to pay for it.

“I had noticed the soldiers growing more and more restless the closer we grew to the jungle’s edge, of course, but I merely took this as assurance that they were doing their jobs. When we entered the jungle, I was sternly warned not to be the cause of any distraction for the company or to leave their protection. Of course, the fact that we were probably headed to burn down some village never crossed my mind; the fact that not all peoples and cultures are as pacifistic as our own had still not imprinted itself upon my psyche, despite all my time with the gryphons. I suppose I had some vague idea that I would be parting from the company at a convenient point so that I could meet with the tribals and discuss their culture.

“Instead, I found myself woken in the middle of our first night in the jungle to the sound of clanging scimitars and soldiers screaming in a foreign tongue. I stumbled out of my tent, having nearly tripped over my guide, his face bloated and a dart buried in his throat. Had I not been so terrified, I think I might have gone into shock. As it were, I saw our attackers, perfectly silent save for the ‘pop’ as blades attached to their hooves punched through metal and bone as easily as flesh, or the ‘crack’ as legs and ribs were snapped with bare hooves as easily as you or I might break a pencil or shatter a thin pane of glass.

“To this day, I’m not sure how I survived. I fled, of course, but it was the middle of the night and I was in the jungle, alone and naked and hundreds of leagues from home. All I remember is running, and running, and running yet more until finally I collapsed from exhaustion and fell unconscious. When I awoke, it was daylight, and I was on the plain some distance from the jungle’s edge. Despite my aching body, I wasted no time putting as much distance from that place as I could. When I finally made it back to the capitol, I did not even bother informing the sheik of what had happened to his expeditionary force; I packed my things, informed my friends that I was beginning my return journey the next morning, and would have left without them had they not been ready. I arrived at the borders of our wonderful, if deeply flawed and culturally isolated, but still wonderful country a few weeks later, and have not set hoof outside its boundaries since.”

After a few moments of silence, once it became clear that Jack’s story was finished, Stasis frowned.

“Wait…wasn’t that story supposed to have something to do with those?” Stasis asked, pointing at the faces.

“Those? Yes, I picked those up in the capitol. I was at the bazaar – a sort of square devoted to the buying and selling of merchandise – and I saw a stall filled with supposedly-authentic tribal artifacts. Even my untrained eye could see that many of the items were cheap imitations, intended to part tourists from other lands from their money, but several of the articles had a certain look of legitimacy to them. Tending the stall was an old slave, his eyes such a milky white that I thought he might be blind, and around his neck a collar of cold iron attached to an iron spike in the ground. He was so still that I thought that he might be dead, so I wandered over to inquire as to his health. My guide tried to stop me, strangely enough; he pointed out the markings and tattoos on the old one’s mangy coat, and warned me against speaking to the tribal. I brushed his concerns off as the rubbish that it was, of course, and ordered him to translate for me.

“I spoke to the slave for some time, and he told me that he had only recently been captured in a raid on one of the few independent villages that survived on the plains. He spoke little beyond that of his life or his people, unfortunately; he did not seem of the talkative sort, and while he was respectful, it was the sort of dismissive respect one might give to an old enemy or rival. Finally, I gave up and was about to vacate the stall when I saw this: these masks, carved from wood in much the same fashion as other ritual masks of the tribal zebras, yet clearly representing a version of the traditional drama masks.”

“Traditional drama masques?” queried Stasis.

Jack looked down at the little changeling curiously. “Yes. I suppose that you’re not familiar with them? The smiling mask is supposed to represent comedy, while the weeping mask represents tragedy. Those are the two traditional genre divisions of drama. There used to be two such masks, quite large, above the marquee in front of this theater, but…I’m afraid that they fell down several years ago, taking the marquee with them. I took it as an omen.”

“I don’t understand,” Stasis admitted. “I thought that only changelings wore masques.”

Jack quirked an eyebrow. “Is that what their disguises are called? It makes sense, I suppose. They both serve a similar purpose. Masks, in this sense, are merely non-magical objects that you wear over your face to change your appearance.”

“Oh. Okay.” Stasis wasn’t surprised that he had never heard of the magic-less things. As far as he was concerned, two-thirds of the entire pony species were cripples, deserving of his pity.

“As I was saying, I saw these hybrids of theater and ancient zebra tradition, and was immediately intrigued. I asked the old slave about them; I was curious as to why they imitated the modern drama masks. He was quiet for a time, but I was patient. I could see it in his milky eyes, that he knew something about the masks, something that he was thinking of telling me. I’m sure he had few chances to speak with others there, being surrounded by zebras who hated him.

“Finally, I grew thirsty, and I sent my guide to fetch all three of us a drink from one of the vendors. As soon as he was gone, the slave began to speak – and in Equestrian, no less. Where he learned the language, he never said. He spoke of an old book, old, old, old, that used to be the pride and joy of his village, back when the sheik was just a distant chieftain and his people put out offerings of cocoa beans and sugarcane at night to placate the mad god, should he come traveling through their lands. The book was eventually lost, the slave said – destroyed by a fire that burned so hot, it swept through their village even as it was deluged by a great thunderstorm. However, his people, being literacy-challenged, had memorized many passages from the ancient text, including one story speaking of two brothers, one laughing, one sad….”

Jack paused then. “…But I fear that I’ve gone on far too long already. I’m sure you’ve heard enough of my ramblings, and it would appear that the archlich is preparing to lead his army of undead magi against the assassin’s guild. Also, several of the fallen have been still for longer than I’d like. Perhaps I should intervene….”

“No, they’re fine,” Stasis said firmly. “You should tell me this story.”

Jack chewed his weed absently a few moments before shrugging and saying, “Very well. You see, according to the legend, drama and theater as we know was actually an invention, not of the ponies or even the zebras, but of the changelings.”

Stasis snorted. “That’s stupid. Changelings don’t build theaters or make wooden masks or anything like that.”

“Perhaps. But according to him, long, long, long ago – three longs, I recall quite clearly from his telling – a queen of their race lay an egg in which two of her children dwelt together.”

Stasis frowned. “You can’t have two changelings come from a single egg!...can you?”

Jack shrugged. “Am I a poultry farmer? I am merely recounting the story as it was told to me. The slave was clear: there were two twins conceived in one egg, brothers, and somehow their mother learnt of their plight. She being a clever mare – or queen, as the case may be – waited until the day and the hour upon which her children were to hatch, and with the greatest care, she opened their egg herself with her own magic. She found within something which she was not expecting: these children looked much like the others, save that they both had bright yellow eyes.”

“Are…you sure? They had yellow eyes?” Stasis asked hesitantly. Perhaps he could believe that two changelings might be born of the same egg; he had never heard of such a thing, but then, if his time amongst the ponies had taught him anything, it was that there were many things in this world of which he’d never heard. And as for the queen knowing of the twins ahead of time, that was easily explained. Mother had always been able to feel her children’s emotions, even in the womb; sometimes he had thought he could her singing to them in the middle of the night, when everyling was supposed to be asleep. And if the child within an egg died, she would take it and bury it someplace that even he didn’t know about, and none of them were to speak of it again.

The idea that two princes could both be born at once, however, was almost unfathomable. One would have more luck searching for seven-leaf clovers and red diamonds than for even a single prince amongst the tens of thousands of changelings that a queen might bear in her lifetime.

“I am absolutely, without-a-doubt convinced that the slave told me that they had yellow eyes; he was quite explicit on that point. In fact, the specific shade he described was much like your own, young thespian.” Jack stopped chewing his weed then and, brow furrowed, looked down into Stasis’ eyes.

The little changeling looked away quickly. After a few moments, Jack continued his narrative.

“…Yes, much like yours. The birth of these two princes was met with great jubilation by all changelings, and the queen was held in great honor by her people. The first child, who upon hatching greeted her with a devilish grin, she named Laughter; the second, who cried with nary a sound, she named Sorrow. They would show themselves as inseparable in life as they had been before birth – or hatching, as the case may be. It became a joke; it was said that one could not give a chuckle without having a little cry afterwards.

“It was expected that both brothers would grow to become great leaders and guardians of their kind, and they were groomed from birth for this role. However, their mother was a proud, hard creature, merciless in the execution of her duties and responsibilities, and it was her duty and responsibility to raise her sons so that they could care for their subjects as she cared for her sons. She determined that two princes together was a waste, and two princes apart would do much better. She took the two brothers, when they were yet young, and she separated them, sending Sorrow to be raised by her sister while she raised Laughter herself.

“Sorrow was lost, torn from his own family and without his brother to guide him. His aunt did not even have a mother’s tenderness, and soon lost all patience with the weak-willed child. She tried to force him to become what he was not, and his life became a misery; he would beg and beg to be allowed to see his brother again, to no avail. The more softness he showed, the less did his aunt.

“Laughter, meanwhile, continued his studies with a grin, and scoffed at all mention of his brother’s name. But it was a lie. In his heart, he began to despise his mother and all that she had taught him. When he saw how loyal her subjects were to her, he began to despise them as well. When it came time for him to be sent to take up the reigns of leadership in a faraway place, he instead escaped by moonlight, searching out his brother. When he found Sorrow, he slew his brother’s guards and together they fled that region, not stopping until they were deep in the territory of their people’s enemies, far outside the reach of their mother and aunt. There they vowed never to be separated again, even if one must follow the other into death.

“Now Sorrow saw that Laughter had become a murderer for his sake, and fearing even this separation between them, he washed his hooves in the same stream, that the blood on his brother’s hooves might wash off onto his own. Declaring himself a murderer as well, he soon felt guilt descend upon his tender conscience, and he wept and begged his brother to take them someplace, someplace where they could remain together forever and never again have to take the life of another.

“Laughter saw all of this and laughed, and called his brother silly and a fool, but when night fell and no one could see, he too wept and prayed to whoever would hear that he would be shown a place to take his brother where none of their people would ever find them again, and they could live in peace.

“With the morning light, he awoke and saw that far, far away, at the boundary of land and sky there floated a glorious city of light and clouds and stone and steel, casting its long shadow over the world. He woke his brother, wiped away Sorrow’s tears, and pointed at the city.

“’There, foolish brother,’ said Laughter. ‘I said that I would watch over you, did I not? I said that I would take care of you, did I not? There: there is where we will go. The city of the gods. There we will be safe, and there we will be kings together, just as we were meant to be.’

“Though they were capable of flight, the journey to the great city was a long one, and fraught with peril; the gods took no care to make the lands beneath and around them easy or kind, for they had little desire for visitors, and many primordial monsters had taken abode where mortals dared not tread.

“Still, the two brothers were powerful creatures in their own right, and they endured. When they finally arrived at the great city amongst the clouds, they found themselves unwelcome, changelings forbidden to walk those hallowed halls. Sorrow wept, and begged his brother to turn back, that they should not anger the gods with their presence. But Laughter grew angry, and rebuked his brother.

“’My ear is against you, foolish brother. Did I not tell you that I would make us a home here? Do you wish to make me a fool too, having come so far, as well as a liar? I may be a murderer, but you have done no wrong, not truly, and I will not let them turn us away.’

“And so it was that Laughter conceived his plan. He took upon himself the form of a beautiful young mare, as beautiful as any mortal has ever been, and had Sorrow take on the form of his maidservant. Together they convinced the immortal guardians of the city to let them in, and took to entertaining the gods at their feasts. Laughter shed the royal gravitas that he had been taught, and he dressed himself in golden silks and silver satins so that he might dance on a stage before them. Sorrow, though terrified, would not leave his brother before the gods alone, and he accompanied the dance with song from a voice like a crystal bell.

“The gods began to take notice of the strange pair, and gave to them many strange and extravagant gifts. Together they were able to purchase a new home in the city in which to live, and for a time they both lived there in peace and happiness.

“However, with success Laughter grew proud and bold, and he began to mingle even more with the gods and goddesses of the city, laughing and joking and flirting with them while wringing from them ever more lavish gifts and allowances. For their part, the gods thought the strange young mare to be quite clever and charming…for a mortal.

“Alas, not all of the gods gave equal worth and respect to their lesser brethren, and one of the gods found himself infatuated with the young maiden. After a particularly long night of merriment and drinking, he demanded that she return with him to his home. When she – when he – refused, the god grew angry, and carried her off, while the other gods stood by and were silent.

“Upon arriving at his home, he….”

Jack paused then, and looked at Stasis for a few moments. He cleared his throat.

“…Well, suffice it to say that the ruse was soon discovered. The god was no longer angry; he was furious, and he dragged the now-naked and unmasqued Laughter before all the gods and their king for judgment. He cursed the changeling race, and demanded he be allowed vengeance upon them for their cruel deception. Laughter, for his part, thought himself soon to die, and he laughed at and mocked them, and cursed each of the gods and their king by name, each one of those who stood by and did nothing to help him or his brother when they were separated, who had done nothing to protect him from his kidnapper, and who did nothing to help him now. He laughed and cursed them as cowards and liars and murderers too, as beautiful on the outside as they were base and hollow on the inside, and he swore all manner of blasphemous oaths against them.

“The god-king was a hard and awesome creature. He had wrestled gods and Ancients alike, and thrown them both down. He had raised speaking races up from mere beasts, and destroyed others completely. He had nearly desolated continents in his fury. Even the gods feared him, and tread lightly in his presence.

“And now he found himself mocked and cursed in his own court, before his own throne, by a petty prince who had snuck into his city disguised as a mare. He was enraged; his eyes burned like the sun as he prepared to deliver his terrible judgment. However, before his throne fell another supplicant: the prince’s maidservant.

“Trembling with fright, Sorrow let his disguise fall away and fell on his belly, weeping, and begged for mercy upon himself, his brother, and his people. He apologized to each of the gods in turn, even to his brother’s accuser, and to the king. He offered the king all that he had, even himself, if only he would spare his brother’s life.

“But the king had already decided to destroy the pair, and would not be swayed by tears, even the tears of a prince. He readied his power, determined to render them both to ash there before him, but his queen whispered in his ear before he could release the spell. She reminded him of his duties to all the peoples of his world, not merely the gods. She reminded him of his duty to the changeling race, who were the most hated of all the speaking creatures of the world, and against whom he had committed grievous sins in the past. She reminded him that he was a good king, not some petty tyrant, and that he governed with mercy as well as justice.

“Though he would not soon forget what the twins had done, the king loved his wife, and did not easily dismiss her counsel. He swallowed his anger, as bitter as it was, and gave his new judgment against the two. He cursed them to remain forever in that city, his servants, and to ever do as they had done before, to entertain his subjects with dance and song and other things.

“Laughter would not so easily forgive the gods for their callousness, and thought to again curse the king and his mercy. But he remembered his brother, and did not wish to leave Sorrow alone in the world. So he, too, swallowed his anger, bowed before the king, and accepted his sentence.

“So it was that the two brothers remained in that the city for as long as they lived, protected servants of the king, entertaining his subjects through song and dance and other things. With time, Laughter overcame his bitterness and pride and became a trusted friend and confidante of many gods, regaling them with tales and lore of the world below. With time, Sorrow overcame his fear and timidity and earned the ear of the king himself, in which he whispered of the woes and sorrows of his people and their needs. Together, they began using their changeling powers to disguise themselves as many different creatures and enacted stories of their people upon the stage, for all to see. They even enlisted the help of brave and entrepreneurial deities who were not afraid to go up before their brethren dressed as mortals, changelings, members of the opposite sex, or even all three. Together they wrote the first plays and, when combined with the singing for which the changelings were renowned, operas. Together, and with the help of the gods themselves, they birthed theater, and drama as we would recognize it.”

He paused. “…And, apparently, cross-dressing as well.”

Stasis stared at the oldish earth pony for a few moments. “…Huh.”

“Yes. Quite the story, isn’t it? I hope I have recounted it accurately; I will be honest, I found it such a wonderfully strange and unique tale the first time that I asked the slave to recount it a second time so that I could write it down and, eventually, memorize it myself. My poor guide…I had him going back and forth across the bazaar the whole time, fetching everything from imported honey-glazed apricots to hoof-mounted hog-bristle toothbrushes.

“Unfortunately, the slave was unwilling to tell me any other story of his people. Perhaps it was the only one he knew; it would make sense, to spread the memorization of the book across the whole tribe. As it were, I had half a mind to give my copy of the story to some historian or equinologist, save that I couldn’t think of one who would give it more than cursory attention. Perhaps it was petty of me, but I felt that if it wasn’t treated as the gem that it was, I would keep it for myself. And so I have, save with my friends…and now you.” Jack gave something that almost amounted to a smile.

“Silly of me, perhaps, but for some reason I thought that you might appreciate this story, even as young as you are. Perhaps it was your eyes; they remind me of the brave young changelings in the story, who risked their lives for each other and, eventually, found a way to serve their people, even if it was not the way that had been expected.” He leaned down slightly towards the little changeling.

“Tell me, young thespian: who would you give your life for?”

Stasis leaned away. “Um…nopony?” he answered. Perhaps Mother…but no, he didn’t want to think about that. It was a stupid question anyway; Stasis’ life was worth more than thousands of underlings. A self-sacrificial prince might be considered a hero by the ponies, but not by his own people.

Jack leaned back, and his almost-smile turned bitter. “Not a pleasant place to find yourself in, is it?” he asked, turning back to look at the stage before him. “At least you are young. There is still time. Time to forge those relationships which are worth more than life itself.” The raggedy old pony took a deep breath, and then let it out before resuming chewing his weed. Stasis hadn’t noticed that he’d stopped.

A thought occurred to Stasis, and he gave Jack a suspicious look. “Did Star Swirl ask you to say that?” he asked. He wouldn’t put it past the old wizard to connive with other old ponies to bring the little changeling in line.

Jack raised an eyebrow quizzically. “Why would The Bearded One tell me to say anything? Do you know him?” he asked.

“…Never mind,” Stasis mumbled.

Jack looked back towards the stage. “Thank you for allowing me to reminisce, young thespian, but it appears that the charming thief, the drunken bard, and the bitter ex-soldier have reigned victorious. I think the children may be more amenable to rehearsal now that they’ve had the chance to excise their frustrations through mortal combat. Please excuse me.”

Stasis watched Jack walk off before turning his attention back to the masks. He was happy that the princes had succeeded in their quest, but the story had still left him feeling…strange. Melancholy. He didn’t have a brother like the one in the story. His brothers were afraid of him, like Nit, or disliked him, like Thor, or both, like Coxa. He didn’t even know what the older underlings, the graylings and Killings and whatnot, thought of him. They only ever spoke to him as teachers or watchers or whatnot, never as a brother…well, except for Vertex, but Vertex was…kind of scary, even for a Killing.

In fact, of his entire family of hundreds of changelings, the only one that he could think of who really seemed to like him for who he was was tiny baby Pupa, who was always stumbling along after him, his little wings buzzing eagerly as he chewed on Stasis’ leg. Baby Pupa would gnaw on other legs too, of course, even his own, but they were apparently all poor substitutes for Stasis’ ambrosial appendages. Baby Pupa had been the reason Stasis learned to fly as early as he did.

Sometimes, baby Pupa would even sneak by the hatchling caretakers at night and hunt down Stasis’ sleeping place, no matter how cleverly hidden it might have been, just so that he could chew on his leg. Stasis had complained loudly and bitterly, of course, but secretly he had always had a grudging respect for the sneaky little hatchling. Now, he didn’t even know if baby Pupa was still alive. He kind of wished that he had been nicer to the little hatchling when he had the chance….

“Is something wrong, Stasis? You look sad,” asked Major, appearing by his side.

Stasis inhaled, a vigorous denial forming on the tip of his tongue. After a few moments, he let out the breath with a sigh and shrugged.

“I guess I was just thinking of my family,” he admitted, though he wasn’t sure why.

“Oh.” Major was quiet for a moment, and then he slowly stretched one foreleg around Stasis’ back, keeping a little space between them so as to hug him without actually touching the little changeling’s sensitive flesh.

A few minutes passed silently before Stasis sighed again and looked over at where Jack was walking a few ponies through their scene. His brow furrowed in thought.

“You know…if you want to help me feel better, I think I might have an idea,” he admitted, his innate slyness returning and vigorously kicking and beating the melancholy. Slyness felt good…oh, yes it did….

“Huh? What idea’s that?” queried Major.

“I think our scene’s coming up. Quick; go get into your costume. And make sure Goldie doesn’t see you! Knowing her, she’ll probably have us running all over town again, picking up trash and ladling out soup to the poor or something. We have to be discreet….”

“Okay, Stasis. I’ll go get ready!” Major exclaimed happily, dashing off backstage.

Meanwhile, Stasis gazed at the masks of his uncles, a plan forming in his mind.

* * *

The sorcerer walked with a slow, easy gait across the stone floor of the tower, bright eyes shining beneath his cowl as they roamed across the room, searching out the slightest flaw. He swept back his filthy mane with one hoof and adjusted his tattered cape, its scent of rotten hide having long since set into his nostrils.

“Are you ready, my minion?” he asked, his voice deep and dark and echoing in the cold chamber.

His minion, draped in stained grey rags and sporting a hideous hunched back and one patched eye, looked around the tower, searching.

“Wait…that’s me, right?”

Lord Stasis frowned. “What, do you think I’m speaking to my other minion? Of course it’s you!”

Minion nodded. “Okay, Stasis. Sorry.”

Lord Stasis scoffed. “Stasis? Stasis? Stasis is dead! And from his grave rises the dread necromancer, Lord Stasis the Great and Terrible!…But I guess that you can just call me Lord Stasis, since that’s easier to say.”

“Oh…okay. Sorry, Lord Stasis.”

Lord Stasis nodded. “That’s better. Now, Minion….” His eyes narrowed.

“Bring forth my crystal ball!”

Suddenly, as if the grimy walls themselves had taken voice, a whisper floated across the room. It spoke of strange, impossible things that would have shattered lesser minds like paladin’s armor under a dragon’s claw. It spoke of ‘lines’ and their many violations, and of the dire consequences should they remain sullied so.

Lord Stasis cocked his head curiously. “Hark! Is that a spirit I hear, or merely the wind whistling through the bones of my dungeon?”

Minion shook his head. “No, that was Jack asking why we’re not saying our lines from the play like we’re supposed to.”

Lord Stasis sneered. “Oh? Well, please inform this ‘Jack’ that if he intends to voyeur, he should not blame me if I were to, say, accidently seal his soul into my cursed toilet plunger. You know, the one made of sea serpent’s tongue and the horn of an alicorn and soaked in the tears of a windigo.”

Now it was Minion’s turn to cock his head. “Now Abra’s asking why you’re being such a little freak, and Goldie just wants you to know that you’re stupid.”

“Bah! Enough!” Lord Stasis roared. “You can commune with the spirits on your own time. Now…where is my crystal ball?”

“Here it is, Stasis. I mean, Lord Stasis,” Minion said, placing the sphere onto a petite purple pillow perched atop a pedestal in the precise center of the room.

Lord Stasis immediately leapt towards it and, raising his forehooves high, began weaving impossible shapes above the crystal sphere, the air seeming to chill and thicken around him as he forced his will upon the unholy sphere.

“Oh, crystal ball, stolen from the black aether beyond the damned gates of Tartarus itself…bend thyself to my command! Show me mine enemies in all their bedraggled heroicness, that I may smite them safely from afar!” he shouted, pushing his snout firmly against the sphere and losing himself in its wondrously wicked depths. He summoned his magic, using incalculable skill and might of mind to force it into the ball, much as one would squeeze blood into a stone. After a few moments, a vision of a ragtag party appeared. An eclectic band of adventurers, sporting members of many races and professions and with a leader who was obviously a prince or demigod, raised from birth by a noble-yet-ignorant-now-tragically-dead swineherd, his true identity to be revealed by his wicked father at an inauspicious time. Clearly, these were heroes.

“Look at them, Minion,” Lord Stasis commanded. “Look at them, blithely prancing about, performing random acts of kindness and charity while forging the bonds of friendship and brotherhood. Gah! I should smite them on principal.”

Minion tapped his chin thoughtfully. “But…what if we helped them instead of trying to killing them, Lord Stasis? Then everypony would like us and we wouldn’t have to die at the end.”

“Some things are more important than mere survival,” Lord Stasis elucidated. “Like, say, being wicked. Or owning your own black tower. How many heroes do you know who own their own black towers, Minion? It’s a quality of life issue. Now, bring me….” He turned suddenly and leered at Minion.

“…The black book….” He finished in a hoarse whisper.
Minion turned and looked at the bookshelf behind him. “Which black book, Lord Stasis? They’re all black.”

“The blackest!” Lord Stasis shouted with glee. “The blackest that we have!”

“Well…if you’re sure…” Minion agreed hesitantly, pulling an incredibly, impossibly, mind-bogglingly black book from the shelf with his mouth and depositing it on a second pedestal beside the first.

“Bwahahahahahaha!” Lord Stasis cackled, lifting the book high into the air with his magic. “Behold! The black book! It’s just… so…black!”

Still cackling madly to himself, Lord Stasis set the book down upon the pedestal with a mother’s tenderness. He didn’t want to scratch the evil.

“I’m trying to decide upon the doom we shall bring down upon our enemies, but…the blackness! It’s too much! I can’t focus.” He shivered.

“Truly, this is the black book’s curse.”

“Um…well, we could give them so much cake that they get sick. That always works with me.”

“What about this: we could bind and barter our enemies for black swords, black cowls, and black boots. We could summon black knights, black wraiths, and black angels to slay them. We could sacrifice them to the Ancient Evils in exchange for black powers, black knowledge, and black fur! No longer shall I be an unexciting shade of grey! Bwahahahaha!”

“We could sing a song instead. ‘Heroes, heroes, go away, come again some other day….’”

“No, no, I’ve got it! We could hire a group of changelings – black ones! – to impersonate the heroes and travel across the land, sowing black seeds of destruction and reaping black crops of despair. Let’s see how heroic they are when the peasantry pelts them with rotten blackberries, blackcurrant, even black-eyed peas! Bwahahahaha!”

“Maybe we can ask the king to pretty-please protect us from the heroes? Wait…he was killed already, wasn’t he? Did we do that? I can’t remember….”

“No! We must be bold! With such an obsidian opus, I could strike the sun and the stars themselves sable! The sky itself shall be slate, wrapping about the world like a picious pod of melanoid metamorphosis! From it I shall burst forth, a Stygian spider sulking in the shadows, weaving dusky dreams as they doze and sullying their somber sanguine with pitch-dark poison until their blood bleeds black as –“

A whisper cut across the chamber like a black wind, and Lord Stasis scowled. He’d been on the threshold of true thesaural transcendence!

“Jack says that we should probably just give Abra a call instead. Also, that book is actually his diary from back when he used to care, so he wants us to be careful.”

Lord Stasis gave Minion a sharp look, his lips peeling back from his teeth as he snarled, “He’ll have to pry it from my cold, undead hooves!”

He paused. “Oh, and Abra is far too brown to be of any use to me.”

“He says, ‘Very well, but could you please strike a match and set the theater ablaze on your way out? My hopes and dreams should provide adequate tinder, dry and emaciated as they are. Just be sure to dispose of the ashes somewhere safe, lest they should fertilize some farmer’s crops and prove as bitter a taste in the mouths of the next generation as they were in mine.”

Lord Stasis threw up his hooves. “Fine! Whatever. I mean, you might as well be using a morally-grey book for all the evil we’ll be getting out of it this way, but fine. Let’s just be done with it.”

Moving back to the crystal ball, he waved his hooves above it more perfunctorily this time before suffusing it with his magic and, with a voice like black silk, cooing, “Crystal ball, crystal ball, here on my little pedest-al…show me, who is the lamest one of all?”

Instantly, the heroes began to fade from view, and in center of the sphere an image of a boring-brown filly appeared, her face painted with strange glyphs and symbols, giving her the look of a zebra tribal. She glared back at him.

“Eureka! It speaks the truth!” shouted Lord Stasis. “Surely this is the unlovable witch of which the spirit spoke!”

“I hate you so much,” seethed the witch.

“Hey, Abra!” said Minion, waving.

“I have heard of your plight, foulest witch, and I am here to help,” Lord Stasis said magnanimously. “I will use my blackest of books to give you the recipe for a love poison, and in exchange you will use it and all manner of depraved and sultry means to steal the heart of the protagonist. Meanwhile, Minion and I will watch on in amusement.” He paused, looking her over critically. “…You may want to double the recommended dose, just to be safe.”

The witch facehoofed. “Ugh, Stasis, you little idiot! I’m a zebra witch! I already know how to make a love poison! You’re supposed to ask me to deliver the heroes into your hooves, and then in exchange I make you swear to make me your queen when you take the throne. You’re supposed to use the crystal ball to tell me where the heroes are located. And the books…the books are just props, Stasis! Where’d you even get that second pedestal? Are you trying to ruin the play? Did you pay any attention to the script?”

Lord Stasis wiped the drool from his mouth; were he not already quite mad, the witch’s ramblings would surely have driven him so. “Sorry, dearest hag,” he said politely. “I’m afraid that I only made it as far as ‘make you my queen’ before vomit obscured the rest.”

“No wonder I’m supposed to fall in love with Pierce. Not even a witch could love somepony like you,” Abra growled before she cut the connection.

Lord Stasis rolled his eyes before returning to the black book and stroking its cover affectionately. “Don’t listen to her, my little Blackie. How could I have room in my heart for another when I have you? My black soul rises in your presence, my black heart sings at your name, my black – aaak!” He jumped as a stallion reeking of some foul weed appeared suddenly in the secret, impregnable tower chamber.

“How did….” Lord Stasis pointed at the stallion. “Minion! Sic it!”

“I fear that the scene is now over, young thespian,” said the mysterious interloper. “It’s time to give your imagination a rest.”

“That’s Lord thespian to you,” Lord Stasis muttered angrily as a whole host of ponies descended upon his secret lair, tearing it apart piece-by-piece and whisking its contents into the abyss. Realizing his peril, he tried to seize the black book, but with a flying leap a little pegasus filly snapped it up in her mouth and fled with all the unnatural celerity of a winged bunny.

Accursed pegabunny! Lord Stasis thought angrily, shaking his hoof at the retreating lagomorph and swearing vengeance.

“That was an…extremely loose interpretation of that scene, ‘Lord Stasis.’ However, given the source material, I’m inclined to consider it an improvement,” the mysterious stallion said, reaching around Lord Stasis’ neck and unclasping his black cloak. All at once, Stasis found himself a mere prince-cum-pony-child again, with no more necromantic ability than any other child. He pouted.

Jack stood back and, looking down at Stasis, he frowned.

“You didn’t have…that, before…did you?” asked Jack, pointing at Stasis’ rump.

Stasis glanced back. Having changed his masque after donning his cloak, he had had no way of telling if the mark looked perfect or not. He was glad to see that it did – two faces, one laughing and the other weeping, though he’d taken the liberty of accentuating the fangs.

Originally, he’d planned on making a big fuss about the whole thing, but now he was feeling too grumpy to give the ponies the pleasure. “Oh, look. I got my cutie-mark. Whoopee,” he grumbled. “Now just give me back my cape, my ball, and my book, and we’ll call it a day.”

Jack looked about at the bustling ponies. “Ch-children? Please, wait a moment, children. It seems that our young thespian here has earned his cutie-mark. And it would appear to be in theater, no less…or else something closely related.”

The ponies paused as one, turning their gazes towards him. Stasis did not consider himself a shy little changeling, but the weight of all those stares, turned silently towards him, made him start to feel nervous. For several moments, nopony said a word.

Stasis looked at his rump. I did do it right, didn’t I? There’s nothing abnormal about it? Maybe when I got the mark, it was supposed to sparkle? I was wearing a cape, but it was probably supposed to sparkle anyway. Everything around here sparkles. Should I do it again? Maybe if I make it sparkle now, I can call it a delayed reaction, and say that I have a condition –“

A roar cut across the stage.

“Stasis!” it thundered, orange lightning streaking across the stage as ponies shrieked and stumbled out of its path.

“Aaaaaaaaaak!” was all Stasis had time to scream before Major was upon him, lifting the little changeling clear off his hooves in a hug that would have squeezed a bear out of its pelt.

“Stasis!” Major yelled in his ear. “You got your cutie-mark! Aaaaaaaaaaah!”

“Mercy! Mercy!” he coughed over Major’s shoulder, beating his forelegs against the orange pony’s back fruitlessly.

“I am so happy right now! So! Happy!” Major exclaimed, punctuating each word with a squeeze.

“Too happy…too happy….” Stasis wheezed.

“I’m really sorry, Stasis, but I can’t stop hugging you right now! This is just too exciting!” Major exclaimed. He did loosen up enough so that Stasis could breathe again, though.

As color returned to the edges of his vision, Stasis could see over Major’s shoulder. The ponies had all drawn much closer, surrounding him. He could hear whispering behind him as ponies inspected his hindquarters. He jerked as one intrepid pony even touched his mark softly, as if to see if it was real.

Which, of course, it wasn’t.

His gaze was soon drawn to Pierce, who stood a few paces away, his stare as unwavering and implacable as ever. Normally, Stasis was utterly unafraid of this foolish blue earth pony who had tried to best him with the Frisbee; indeed, Stasis would go so far as to say that he was anti-afraid of Pierce. But now, with his hind hooves dangling off the floor and ponies surrounding him, watching him, and touching his hindquarters, he broke away from Pierce’s eyes and looked down at the floor, feeling somehow embarrassed, and hating that feeling.

Without taking his eyes off of the little changeling, Pierce spoke, his voice cutting coolly across the stage. “Congratulations, Stasis. This is a very special day.”

Somehow, Pierce’s words seemed to galvanize the other ponies, and Stasis found a multitude of smiles flashed his way, some perfectly sincere, the rest imperfectly.

“Yeah, congratulations, Stasis.”

“Good job, Stasis.”

“Hey! You finally got your cutie-mark! That’s great!”

“You creep me out, but I’m still glad that you got your cutie-mark, Stasis.”

Major finally put Stasis down and took a step back, and the other ponies closed in on the little changeling, congratulating him, many patting him on the back or, occasionally, on the rump. He tried to smile, though given the reactions of the ponies in front of him, it was a less than perfect attempt.

He’d expected a reaction to getting his mark, of course, but he hadn’t expected…this. Most of these ponies didn’t even like him! And he certainly didn’t like any of them. What was going on? He’d have given himself his mark in some dark alley somewhere if he’d known they’d just turn rabid like this.

After a few more minutes, Jack announced that the rest of rehearsal was cancelled for the day in celebration, and ponies began to filter out. Soon, it was just Stasis, Major, and a few others scattered about the stage.

When the last congratulator had walked off, promising to attend Stasis’ cute-ceanara wherever and whenever it might be held, Stasis turned to his orange companion.

Before he could say anything, however, Major sniffled and said, “I just want you to know, Stasis, that I’m really, really happy that I got to be here when you finally got your cutie-mark. Whenever you tell ponies your own cutie-mark story, don’t forget to tell them that your best friend Major was here too!”

It’s just a stupid mark. It doesn’t mean anything! But, apparently, it did mean something to these ponies, even more so than Star Swirl and Major’s stories would have led him to believe; having all his schoolmates surrounding and trying to be nice to him was freaky. He was just glad that it was over.

He rubbed the back of his neck. “Uh…sure, Major, I…wait? Are you crying? Please tell me that you’re not crying. You can lie if you need to.”

Major rubbed at one eye. “I’m sorry, Stasis. I was just so happy, I couldn’t help it.”

“It’s not that big of a deal,” Stasis protested. “Anyway…I’m still mad at you for hugging me, you know. And the next hoof that touches my rear, gets bitten. That’s the only warning that I’m going to give.”

A hoof touched his rear.

Stasis let out a most un-fearsome hiss and jumped away from the rump-rubber. “Will you guys stop that!” he yelled.

“What is it?” Goldie asked, her expression one of intense puzzlement. “I mean…I know they’re faces, but why do they look funny? And is the first one making fun of the other? Is that why the second one is crying so much? Is that first one supposed to be you? Is your special talent making other ponies cry?”

“Of course not!…Okay, well, probably,” Stasis admitted. “But that’s not all that the mark means. It’s…you know, acting. I’m a great actor. It means other stuff, too. But I’ve got my mark now, so we’re done with it. It’s not that big a deal.”

“I disagree,” Pierce said from behind the little changeling, startling him. “What could be more important to a pony than his cutie-mark? It’s not like an eye or ear – it’s not a physical part of their body that can be injured or taken away. It’s spiritual; it shows who you are.”

“Wow!” Major exclaimed. “You’re really smart, Pierce!”

The azure earth pony ignored Major, not looking away from Stasis.

“For most ponies, at least, it answers the question of who they are,” Pierce continued. “So tell me: who are you, Stasis?”

“I…I’m Stasis, of course,” he answered, turning and showing off his rump. “See? I’ve got my own mark and everything. There’s nopony else like me in the world.”

“Yeah! My dad says that whoever made Stasis must have broken the mold,” Major posited.

“Probably over his own head,” Goldie agreed.

Pierce glanced down at the cutie-mark, and then back into Stasis’ eyes.

“Isn’t that an image of the same masks that I saw you speaking with Jack about just a few minutes ago?” Pierce asked.

“Yeah? So?” Stasis challenged, showing more bravado than he felt.

Pierce was quiet for a moments, then shrugged. “Nothing. I just thought it was odd, is all. I hope that you’re happy with your mark, Stasis.” Nodding to Major and Goldie, the blue pony walked off.

“Pierce is such a nice guy,” Major mused fondly.

Stasis wiped the sweat from his brow, and then noticed that Goldie was still staring at his mark with the same intensity as before. He frowned.

“What?” he asked. “Is something wrong with it?”

Goldie looked away. “No…nothing’s wrong….” She turned around and started walking away.

“Hey, Goldie!” Major said quickly. “Don’t you want to celebrate with me and Stasis?”

“Celebrate?” Stasis asked, brow furrowed.

“No, you guys go ahead,” Goldie called over her shoulder. “I’m not feeling so good…I think that I’m going to go home and lay down for a while.”

“Oh…okay! Have fun at home, Goldie! I hope you feel better!” Major called out after her. Turning back to Stasis, he said, “I hope she feels better. Maybe we can go visit her when we’re done celebrating.”

“Celebrating?” Stasis asked hesitantly. “What do you mean, celebrating? Are we going to go to the pastry shop? Or make Star Swirl fix us potaters?”

“No!” Major exclaimed, smiled beatifically. “We don’t have money for doughnuts, anyway. No, now that you’ve got your cutie-mark, we’ve got to show it off! We should show everypony in Trottingham!” he finished, swinging his forelegs wide, as if to encompass the whole world.

Stasis turned, and began to flee.

The Psychology of an Entomologist

“Orion’s bulging biceps, Major. What’d you do to him?”

“I’m sorry, Mr. Swirl! I don’t what’s wrong with him…he just starting getting sicker and sicker!”

Stasis tried to tell them to stop talking so loud, it was hurting his head, but it came out as more of a gurgle.

“How’d this happen, lad? Tell me from the beginning.”

“Well…he was acting kind of grouchy at first, and was complaining a lot, but after we had visited the pastry shop and the grocer’s he started acting kind of…funny. He told Crimson that she looked like a giant turkey basted in hot chili oil and he kept trying to nibble on her leg, and then when we went to see Mr. Toad, he pointed at Mr. Toad’s cutie-mark and just started laughing and laughing, and he wouldn’t stop!”

There was the tell-tale sound of a beard being stroked. “What’s his symptoms?”

“Well, by the time we got to the post office, he was starting to get kind of sweaty. Then he started shivering a bit, and said that he had a headache. By the time we got here, I was having to drag him! Did you know that his mane tastes funny?”

“Can’t say that I did, lad.”

“Yeah…I don’t think that he washes it as much as he should.”

There was a sniffing sound.

“Stars above…what’s he been eating?”

“Well…Mr. Strudel gave us a whole bag of cookies, and Mr. Basily told Stasis that he could have as many peppermint sticks as he could carry, which turned out to be a lot! Also, after I got Stasis to let go of her, Crimson gave us some bon-bons, and Mr. Toad gave us a few salt blocks to lick on the way home.”

“He ate all of it, didn’t he?”

“Uh…yeah. I told him he should save some for later, but he said that moderation was for the weak and indecisive….”

There was a chuckle. “Ha! Well, if all those ponies were planning to finally do him in, I guess this is one way to go about it. Seems a little roundabout, though…if it’d been me, I would’ve used one of those monkey traps. Not sure if it works on hooves, though…hmm….”

Stasis tried to curse the treacherous old wizard, but it came out as more of a series of burbles and feeble hisses.

“I don’t think that they were trying to hurt him, Mr. Swirl. They were…hey! Did you know that Stasis got his cutie-mark today?” Major asked, suddenly excited.

“Oh? That so?”

“Yeah! Look!”

Stasis felt one of his sprawled hindlegs pushed to the side, revealing his marked rump.

“By my beard…so he did!” Star Swirl exclaimed. “And you’re sure that it’s his own mark? There ain’t no poor blank-flank running around, wondering where his special talent ran off to, now is there?”

“Well…I’m pretty sure,” Major said, suddenly sounding less-than-sure. “I mean, it doesn’t look like any mark a normal pony would have, so I figured it must be Stasis’.”

“Hmm…you have a point there, lad,” Star Swirl conceded. “Still, I hear the best way to tell if a cutie-mark is real is to give it a good, strong slap, hard as you can. Maybe a few times, just to be sure he didn’t glue it on there or anything.”

Stasis tried to flee, but all he succeeded in doing was wriggle around in place a bit. He figured that if he could just manage to roll over onto his bloated belly, he’d probably end up puking all over everypony’s hooves. That’d serve them right.

“Maybe when he’s feeling better,” Major allowed. “But right now, could you please use a spell and fix him? There’s still lots of ponies in town who we’ve got to show his new mark to.”

“Lad, there’s not magic enough in the world to fix the problems this one’s got,” Star Swirl said sadly. “Still, I reckon he’ll make a full recovery from this here sugar-high. Or else he’ll probably die. I’m a magician, not a doctor.”

“…If he dies, can you bring him back?”

“Goodness…what do the two of you think I am, a bloody witch-doctor? I’m just trying to solve the mysteries of time and space here, not bring about the zombie apocalypse!”

“Stasis says that he wants to be a vampony lord, not a zombie,” Major corrected.

“He already likes to prowl around at night, he bites, and he has a strange dislike for holy symbols. I’m not sure what he thinks he’s going to get by becoming a vampony.”

Power! More power!

“Anyway…hmm…I suppose that we’re going to have to have a party for the lad, seeing as how he’s all cutie’d-up now.”

“Wow! A party! Can I come? And Goldie too?”

“She’s the pretty little white lass, eh? Considering the kinds of things Stasis has had to say about her, I reckon she must be a fine, upstanding young mare.”

“Oh, yeah, Goldie’s the greatest, except for maybe Abra,” Major claimed. “She doesn’t like Stasis very much right now, but I think that that’s just because he’s mean to her all the time. I figure since she’s my friend, and he’s my friend, then they’re both friends to each other too, even if they don’t know it yet.”

“Friends by proxy, eh? Clever lad,” Star Swirl said affectionately. “Anyhow, when the time comes, I reckon you can invite Goldie, Abra, and anypony else you want to. Maybe if we pretend that he’s not an antisocial little devil, the gods of child-rearing will hear and make our wish come true. None of the arcane rituals, blood rites, and naked prancing-about-the-fire that I’ve been doing seems to have gotten their attention, anyway.”

“My dad says that good ponies don’t join crazy cults,” Major responded.

“Only desperate ones,” Star Swirl replied. “Anyhow, feel free to invite all your friends from the play, along with their parents. The more the merrier, I reckon.”

“Okay!” Major said happily. “But…wait. Stasis doesn’t really like other ponies very much….”

“Ha! As if he has a say in any of this. Did he tell you that I never had a cute-ceanara?”

“No! That’s terrible!”

“Aye. So since he’s happy to waste his childhood on wild living and sugar binges, I reckon he can’t complain if I relive the missed moments of my own youth vicariously through him every chance I get. Besides, he doesn’t really mind. Do you, lad?”

Gurgle! Gurgle!

“See? It’s fine.”

“Alright! When are we having the party? Where? Will there be games?”

A laugh. “Hold your horses there, lad. We’ll hammer out the details later. Right now, I think that we should probably get the other lad here up off the floor. Stasis? Can you stand?”

The civil war raged on in his stomach, tissue fighting tissue in internecine tragedy, the slaughter threatening to spill over into his gullet and drown them all at any moment. Rebels had already made their way into his inner sanctum; even now, he could feel their malicious sabotage, his head pounding as he fought the weariness slowly overtaking him. His eyes and ears, too, chafed at the yoke, returning all sensation as pain even as his lower gut rumbled with signs of the suffering yet to come. Desperate, he called to his distant limbs for aid, to no response. He could only assume the worst.

This was all the ponies’ fault. Accursed herbivores and their accursed sugar-sticks. If they’d allowed him even a miserly allowance of real food, a few minnows or but a single hummingbird, his body would not now lie here, in the throes of blackest insurrection. Instead, he would die here, all alone on this pony floor that felt like it had not been swept in ages, and Star Swirl would realize that he had actually been a little changeling all along, and his body would be used in all kinds of horrible ways for science….

He was young…so young….

“I’m going to take that as a ‘no.’ Well, I reckon I’m going to haul him off to bed. If he’s still alive tomorrow, I’ll give him the day off from chores so that the two of you can play. And if he’s not, well…I reckon you can have his stuff.”

Even as consciousness slipped away from him, Stasis resolved to live on. He wouldn’t give Star Swirl the satisfaction.

* * *

Stasis awoke to the feel of water dripping on his forehead. Drip, drip, drip. Drip, drip, drip. There was a truly extraordinary amount of dripping going on for what felt like his bed. Either there was a silent rainstorm invading through an invisible hole in his bedroom ceiling….

…Or else there were wizards afoot.

“What are you doing?” he asked, not yet bothering to open his eyes.

“Just an experiment or two, lad. As I’ve told you before, it’s been quite a while since I had anypony to test my ideas on, and I’ve got a bit of a backlog. Hold still, will you?”

Stasis rolled out of bed in a swift, practiced motion. Opening his eyes, he saw Star Swirl standing there, horn aglow while what looked like a valve attached to a canister of water hovered over Stasis’ bed, still dripping.

“Why do you always do these things while I’m trying to sleep?” Stasis demanded shrilly. “What is wrong with you?”

“When you’ve got your own place, lad, you can decide what experiments to perform on yourself.”

“You’re an evil, wicked wizard,” Stasis accused, jabbing one hoof at his caped tormentor. “And not the fun kind.”

“Oh, hush, lad. I figure this is the least you can do to make up for that bottomless pit of yours. I swear, every time I see the potater-monger these days, he gets this huge smile on his face like all his birthdays did come at once. Has this big, fancy new carriage that his sons pull him and the missus around in sometimes, and when he’s passing me by, he just starts laughing and laughing and laughing. Cheeky gouger.”

“Why can’t I live with him instead?” Stasis pondered aloud.

“Don’t think I haven’t thought about it, lad. When I’m lugging the goods home, I imagine his face after a month of you living in his larder, and I start to laugh.”

Stasis narrowed his eyes. “I think that deep down inside, you realize that you’re a terrible, heartless pony, and that’s why you eat all that celery and other green garbage. It’s some kind of self-flagellatory response to your recognizance of your own lack of self-worth,” he suggested.

Star Swirl snorted. “Don’t think I don’t know that you read those psychology books just to bug me, lad. I know. You’re doing a good job of it, too.”

Stasis smiled. “You could forbid me from reading them,” he offered.

Star Swirl cocked an eyebrow. “Oh ho ho! You’d like that, wouldn’t you? You’d just love for me to forbid you reading any kind of book at all, just so you could sneak it up to your room at night and read it under the covers by hornlight, snickering at ol’ Star Swirl’s hubris. Oh, don’t look so surprised. I’ve figured out all your twisted little games, lad. The way you fluff up the leaves in your salad so it looks like you’re eating an entire bowl when it’s really only half that. The way you suddenly start asking me questions about the laws of magical propagation through the aether whenever I’m straightening up the workshop, because you think that’ll make me forget to ask you for help. The way you schedule all your weekend dalliances with Major during the hours you think I’m most likely to ask you to clean your room or cut the lawn. I know all your tricks.”

“But…those aren’t ‘tricks!’” Stasis protested. “I worked hard on those. I even ‘experiment’ and everything!”

Star Swirl gave a sardonic grin. “So you do, lad. I reckon it’s hard to accuse you of being lazy when you work so hard trying to get out of work.”

Stasis nodded. He had been accused of many things by ponies and changelings alike, but never laziness. There was always wickedry to be done.

“Alright, well, you won’t be getting out of helping me with dinner tonight, lad. Come along.”

Stasis frowned. “It’s dinner already?”

Star Swirl nodded. “Aye, that was one heck of a sugar-coma, lad. Lesser children would be diabetic after a bender like that.”

Stasis grinned, but then a thought occurred to him. He struggled to think of a way to breach the subject with Star Swirl.

The old wizard cocked a bushy brow. “Something the matter, lad?”

“Well….” Stasis stalled, glancing back to make sure that his cutie-mark was, in fact, still there. He had heard that a changeling’s masque could fizzle out if the changeling was knocked sufficiently unconscious. That would have been hard to explain.

Seeing the two masks, he didn’t quite meet Star Swirl’s eyes as he said, “I just wanted to know what you thought about my…um….”

“Your what? Your flanks? Your tail? Your backside? ‘Spankable’ is the word that comes to mind.”

Stasis’ tail swished across his hindquarters defensively. “What? No! I was talking about my cutie-mark!”

Star Swirl cocked the other brow. “Oh? Is that what that is? I figured you just got a smudge on your flank. Was about to spit and rub it out.”

“Well, that’s just great,” Stasis grumbled. “The little ponies want to touch it, and the old ponies want to spit on it. Nopony mentioned any of this when they were telling me about how wonderful getting my cutie-mark would be.”

“Ah, now, don’t be like that, lad. Come over here and let your ol’ daddy Swirl take a look at this cutie-mark of yours.”

“You are not my ‘daddy,’” Stasis mumbled, but he did as he was told, walking up and presenting his backside for the old stallion’s cutie-viewing pleasure.

Star Swirl leaned down, brows knitted, inspecting the mark carefully.

“Hmmm….”

“What? What is it?” Stasis asked, trying to see what the old wizard was looking at.

“I see…hmmm…very odd….”

“What? What? What?” Stasis babbled, his chitinous backplate all that prevented him from twisting completely about so he could inspect his own hind end.

“I never would have expected that….”

“What? What are you mumbling about!” Stasis demanded.

Star Swirl leaned back heavily and sighed.

“Well…it’s definitely not a pair of potaters.”

“What!” Stasis screeched. “Of course it’s not potaters! Why would it be potaters?”

“Well, lad, what you’ve got to understand is that I’ve just lost a bet. Coincidentally, the potater-monger’s daughter just got herself a new dress.”

“…Huh?” Stasis wondered if this was some kind of wizardly riddle. The only part of being a wizard that Star Swirl seemed really good at was not making sense half the time.

Star Swirl smiled – not one of the smiles he wore when he was about to perform another experiment on Stasis’ person, but a regular one – and Stasis could sense the old pony’s satisfaction as he reached over and patted the little changeling on the head.

“I’m proud of you, lad. I’ll admit, when you got into this whole theater thing, I figured it’d be all of a day before a constable stopped by the house to discuss public disturbances, vandalism, or corruption of the youth. I never thought that you’d actually get your cutie-mark in it.”

Stasis thought about rehearsal that morning, and grinned. “We don’t have anything like this back in my old home. I’ve no idea why Jack doesn’t like this play; it’s great!”

Star Swirl cracked a strange smile, and he patted Stasis’ head again. “Aye, well, maybe you can take all your masterful theatering techniques back to your old home if you ever head that way, eh?”

Stasis’ grin widened into a full-fanged smile. He already had ideas for all kinds of plays that his family could put on. Mother would have to play the part of Princess Celestia, of course, and the Killings could be the royal guard. And he would lead the rest of the underlings to wreak her destruction! Bwahahahahahaha! Everyling would love it!

Star Swirl laughed. “Well, I reckon you already heard me and Major talking about your cute-ceanara, eh?”
Stasis nodded.

“Well….” Star Swirl stroked his beard and gave the little changeling a contemplative look. “What would you say to maybe holding it here?”

“In my bedroom?” Stasis asked, aghast.

Star Swirl’s hoof stopped mid-stroke. “Uh…no, lad. Here, as in, the workshop. Eh…the living room, I mean.”

“There’s no room in the living room,” Stasis pointed out.

Star Swirl shook his head. “That room’s quite a bit bigger than you’re probably thinking, lad. It just looks small, stuffed with all my…eh…stuff, as it is now. Obviously, we’d have to move all the stuff to the backrooms first.”

“We?” Stasis said, seizing on the operative word.

“Yes, ‘we.’ This is your party. You’re lucky it’s not a ‘you.’”

“I’m the one who got a cutie-mark. You all are supposed to be nice to me…” he grumbled.

“’Nice’ doesn’t mean we’re slaves, lad. You want this party, you’ll put some effort into it. Still…I suppose it’d be alright if you invited Major to help. Nicely, or else I’ll make you do everything yourself.”

Stasis grumbled under his breath for a few moments more, to keep up appearances. Really, though, clearing out the workshop wouldn’t be too bad; it might even be fun, with Major there to help. Also, he really wanted the chance to touch Star Swirl’s stuff.

Mulling over the whole idea further, he said, “Are you really going to let us hold it here, in your house? I mean, you told me to never let anypony into the house, except for Major. And Princess Celestia, if she ever shows up at the door.”

“And Princess Luna,” Star Swirl reminded him. “Though she’ll probably let herself in; remember, if you ever see her in the kitchen or your bedroom, just act like everything’s normal. It’ll psych her out.”

“I’ll remember,” Stasis promised. Actually, if any pony goddesses showed up at the door, he planned to run like all the hounds of hell were nipping at his heels. Everyling for himself.

“Anyway, lad, I’m not ‘letting’ you do anything. Who do you think is holding this here party, anyhow? I don’t feel safe letting you plan your own lunch, much less a party.”

“But…what about your work?” Stasis asked. Not that he thought much of the old stallion’s work; as far as he could tell, Star Swirl spent most of his time piddling about with weird trinkets, or sitting in his thinking-spot and grunting to himself every few minutes before he started scribbling something down with a quill on old parchment – never pen and paper like an ordinary pony would use, but a phoenix’s quill and some old parchment, which Stasis guessed was more wizardly. Stasis hardly ever saw Star Swirl actually cast one of his spells, and when he did, it was usually something weird and boring, like the time he made a mouse remember a maze that it hadn’t even had a chance to run yet. He never opened vortices to other dimensions, or slagged cities, or summoned demons. Honestly, Stasis wasn’t quite sure what you were even supposed to do with a wizard, anyway. They didn’t seem very useful.

Star Swirl stroked his beard and gave Stasis a thoughtful look. “Well…I reckon all thaumaturgical progress won’t halt if ol’ Star Swirl decides to take one day off. Two’d be pushing it, though.”

“And we really get to hold it here? In our house?” Stasis asked again.

“It’s my house, lad. Don’t forget whose name’s on the deed.” Star Swirl’s wrinkled face – that little bit of it visible above his beard and below his hat, anyway – softened. “And that was the plan, aye. If the world can put up with you, I reckon it’ll find me to be something of a relief.”

Before Stasis could think about that, Star Swirl stood up with a grunt.

“Well, we’ll hammer out the details of the party later. For now, you and I’ve best get to work on dinner; I’m sure that your body’s ready for something a bit thicker than sugar. Maybe some soup would be easy on your belly…hmm….”

Stasis followed the wizened old wizard out of the room and down the hall, past the many locked rooms filled with wizardly pony junk. Star Swirl cleared his throat as they walked.

“I suppose since it’s such a special day…hmm…I reckon I should give you an extra-special lesson in magic after dinner, eh?”

“Extra-special?” Stasis asked, sunflower eyes agleam. He liked extra-special things.

Star Swirl smiled down at him and nodded. “Aye, very spe – wait, no, I recognize that look. I am not teaching you to teleport, lad. Not yet.”

Stasis sniffed. “Well, it can’t be that special, then.”

“Sure it can! Tonight, lad, we delve into the wonderful world of thaumaturgical matrices and their relationship with crystal lattice structures! Ha! I can’t wait!”

Stasis rolled his eyes. Yeah, didn’t that sound useful.

Out loud, though, he said, “That almost sounds too special, Star Swirl. We should probably save that to celebrate the birth of my firstborn or something. I have another idea: how about we learn about the creation and propagation of temporally compressed fluids and electromagnetic spheroids through a gas?”

Star Swirl frowned. “Well, eh…I guess if that’s what you really want to learn, I can…wait….”

“No,” Stasis interjected quickly. “Let’s not wait. Let’s learn. Now.”

Star Swirl paused on the steps down to the first floor and looked down at the little changeling, his eyes hooded underneath his mighty wizard’s hat.

“Last week, you were wanting to learn about the creation and manipulation of plasma vortices through the rapid energizing of oxygen in a mixed gas.” He leaned down, his icy blue eyes seeming to swallow all of the little changeling’s vision.

“Lad? You are not learning how to cast Pyro’s Plasmatic Fireball.”

Stasis scowled. “How do you always know these things, anyway? Are you reading my mind? You’d tell me if you knew how to read my mind, right?”

Star Swirl leaned back and snorted. “It doesn’t take a magician to know what’s going on in your head, lad. Speaking of thaumaturgy…lad, what’s the first law of magic?”

Stasis crossed his forelegs over his chest and looked away. “I don’t know. I’m not saying.”

Star Swirl got one of his experiment-y smiles. “Come on, lad. What’s the first law of magic?”

“No. It’s stupid.”

“Say it. Say it, lad.”

Stasis pouted harder before finally muttering, “You may be clever, but Star Swirl is cleverer….”

Star Swirl nodded. “That’s right. And the second law?”

“Stasis doesn’t get to learn any combat magics until he’s sixteen and ready for a life in a royal penitentiary….”

“And its corollary?”

Stasis sighed. “Star Swirl does not pay damages….”

“That’s right, lad. Those are the bedrocks of your thaumaturgical education. Remember them, and you’ll go far.”

“Fine,” Stasis grumbled. Being foiled must be the worst feeling in the world.

Star Swirl patted him on the head before continuing down the stairs, bones above and planks below creaking in unison. As Stasis followed, he had another idea.

“Hey, Star Swirl? Can you teach me about linear-chain ionization instead?”

“The third law of magic: no lightning bolts!”

“…Are you making these up?”

* * *

Stasis stalked the morning butterflies, their bright colors and gay dispositions mocking his forenoon fatigue. They were very much like ponies in that way, but small, and readily yielding to his godlike strength and cunning.

“Ha!” he exclaimed, pouncing upon one particular arthropod, trapping it beneath his hoof. Seeing that it was satisfyingly helpless, he began to gloat.

“What did you think, little butterfly? Did you really think that you could just flutter on into this yard – my yard – and spread your happiness and good cheer? Bwahahahahaha!”

The butterfly fluttered spastically, obviously calling for help.

“That’s right! There’s power in numbers! Call the butterflies, call the ants, call the flutterers and the buzzers and the creepers too! Call all the powers of your phylum down upon me, little butterfly, if you can! Bwahahahahaha!”

The butterfly tickled the sole of his hoof as it crawled, desperately trying to escape.

“Where is your arrogant fecklessness now, little butterfly? Where is your brazen joy, now that your doom is upon you? Bwahahahahahaha!”

“Hey, Stasis!” Major asked, his forelegs hooked over the top of the black iron fence.

“Oh. Hey, Major,” Stasis said, trotting up to the earth pony, who was looking even happier and orangier than usual. “What’s up?”

“Nothing!” said Major with a smile. “Hey, you wanna go do something?”

“Can we do it without Goldie?” Stasis questioned.

“Hey!” said Goldie, who also happened to be on the other side of the fence.

“Goodness!” said Stasis, raising a hoof to his mouth at this gross impropriety. “I didn’t see you there!”

“You liar...” grumbled the petulant little filly. “Anyway, what were you doing to that poor butterfly?”

“Playing with it,” Stasis explained.

“You were not! You were being mean!”

“You’re either playing with the butterfly, Goldie, or else the butterfly is playing with you,” cautioned the little changeling. “And nofly plays with Stasis.”

Goldie’s nose scrunched up. “Wait, what? What does that even mean?”

“Yeah, I’m really confused,” confessed Major.

“No one understands me…” grumbled Stasis. “Look, do you two want to play or not?”

“Like you were playing with that butterfly?” Goldie snarked.

“Wait…are we playing with you, or are you playing with us?” Major asked.

“Nopony’s playing with anypony!” Stasis snarled. “I mean…we’re playing, but not metaphorically!”

“Meta-what?” asked Goldie.

Major looked to be in pain.

Stasis facehoofed. “Never mind! The point is, we’re playing, and I know just the place to do it!”

“Where?” Goldie asked.

“I’m still confused...” said Major.

“Since it’s a Saturday, there’s no rehearsal, so I figured that we should play in the playground at the school. That’s what it’s for, after all.”

Major smiled brightly. “Hey! Yeah! I love the playground!”

“But it’s summer, Stasis, and the weekend. Won’t school be closed?” questioned Goldie.

“Do you hate fun, Goldie? Are you a fun-hater?” Stasis countered.

“Don’t be a fun-hater, Goldie,” Major said sadly.

“I-I don’t hate fun! I love fun! I just…I don’t want us to do anything bad, is all…” Goldie muttered.

Major’s brow furrowed. “I don’t want to do anything bad, either. Stasis, are you sure that we’re allowed to be there?”

“Are you sure that we’re not?”

“School is closed, Stasis. Ponies aren’t supposed to be there,” Goldie claimed once more.

“It’s a public school, isn’t it? Are we not the public?”

“He’s right. We are the public,” Major affirmed.

“That doesn’t mean that we –“

“We have rights!”

“He’s right! They said so in school!” Major agreed.

“We shouldn’t be denied!”

“We shouldn’t!”

“We have needs!”

“We do!”

“Let’s go!”

“Yeah! Let’s go!”

Stasis stormed the gate, pushing through it and down the street. He led the way, marching towards school, flanked by his best companion, plus Goldie.

“We are gonna get spanked,” Goldie grumbled. Goldie was such a grumbler.

“Look, if they catch us, just start crying, alright? You’re a filly, so you’ve got nothing to lose,” Stasis reasoned.

Major’s face bore a look of intense contemplation. “Even if we weren’t the public…I don’t think they’d spank us. They only ever spank Stasis.”

“They do? They did?” Goldie asked, looking at Stasis with wide eyes.

“I don’t want to talk about it.”

Major grinned. “Yeah! You should have seen it, Goldie. They locked all the outside doors and windows and they had everypony looking for him, even the janitor! They were opening up all the cabinets and lockers and I even saw Miss Brighten looking in the air ducts for him. Ponies say that they finally found him in the bathroom, trying to tear out the toilet and escape down into the plumbing!”

“I don’t want to talk about it.”

“They say that Principal Principal got out a rusty old paddle three paces long that they found buried in the grave of the first principal ever to run this school, thousands of years ago! You could hear it even on the other side of the building. Smack! Smack! Smack! Smack! Smack! It just seemed to go on and on, forever! And there was all this horrible screeching, and a lot of words got yelled that I don’t understand, and they say Mr. Worthy got bit and they had to take him to the hospital –“

“I don’t want to talk about it!”

“– and vaccinate him against rabies and tetanus. But Stasis doesn’t like to talk about it,” Major finished. Leaning over the little changeling, he whispered loudly, “All I know is, he was walking funny for days.”

Goldie giggled, and soon so did Major. Stasis kept his gaze resolutely forward. He consoled himself with the fact that, if Principal did show up, Stasis wouldn’t have to outrun the old geezer or his magic this time. He just had to outrun Major and Goldie.

Still, after that, Stasis had difficulty paying attention to the rest of the two ponies’ conversation. It was hard to hear over the Smack! Smack! Smack! that even now echoed in his mind, and in his haunches. Ponies were monsters. They really were.

Upon reaching the front of the school, Stasis glanced about, eyes and ears alert for any lurking authority figures. The coast being clear, he motioned to the two ponies and began creeping around the side of the building.

“Why are you creeping along all weird like that?” Goldie asked, her nose scrunching up. “We’re not supposed to be here, are we? You’re trying to get us into trouble!”

“Nonsense!” Stasis scoffed. “This is my normal creep. There’s nothing weird about it at all.”

“It’s true,” Major affirmed. “That’s how he always creeps.”

“But just in case, we should keep our voices low,” Stasis whispered over his shoulder as he crept through the tall grass beside the school.

Major nodded with understanding. Goldie looked to the heavens, probably hoping for help from her puny pony gods.

Stasis heard voices. He quickly held up one hoof, signaling the two to stop.

“What –“

“Shhhh!”

Goldie sat on her haunches, looking cross, but she kept quiet. Stasis decided to shush her more often.

Glad that he was already creeping, Stasis wriggled through the tallish grass like a snake. He paused just at the corner of the building, his keen ears perked up and listening intently.

“ – don’t know, dude. The whole thing just seems a bit...crazy, I guess. I mean, Star Swirl’s supposed to be some kind of freaking genius; don’t you think that he’d notice if something was wrong?”

“You’re looking at it the wrong way. Star Swirl is a recluse; he lives by himself at the edge of town for years, then suddenly he adopts some supposed-orphan out of nowhere? And now he’s having meetings with school officials, attending more city council sessions, and spending more time in town, picking up groceries and the like? That is what’s odd here. That is what we should be concerned about.”

“Really, dude? Star Swirl decides to get a little bit frisky, and that’s weirder than him not noticing a monster living in his own house?”

Stasis hissed under his breath. The second voice was Pierce, of course. Who was the first? And why were they here at the playground? Stasis had been sure that children weren’t supposed to play on the playground while school was out, but Pierce would never do anything that he wasn’t supposed to! This blowed.

“Look at his coloration. Look at his cutie-mark. Look at his name. Look at his background. Look at how he acts. Look at what he eats. How can nopony else see this? Does he have to carve ‘I’m a changeling’ out of leather and hang it about his neck?”

“Look, dude, I believe you. I was there when you got your cutie-mark, remember? You were the one who figured out that I was stealing from the teacher’s lounge and framing it on that nerd Joules. I know you’re kind of freaky with this stuff.”

“There wasn’t anything ‘freaky’ about it. It was obvious, even to a child.”

“Yeah. Whatever. I’m just saying, this time it’s a bit…harder to accept, I guess. I mean, he just hangs out with his friends, goes to school, and plays at the park. Shouldn’t he be, I don’t know, poisoning our water or stealing our mares or something? He seems a bit young to be a creature of nightmares.”

“He’s actually fitting in much more poorly than most changelings that I’ve read about, who normally mimic their ‘host’ quite closely. I have no idea what his plans are or why he’s here. I hope that the guard can learn all of that once he’s in custody.”

“Okay…do you have any actual proof that he’s a changeling? Any proof at all?”

“Other than all the evidence that’s there for anypony to see? Not a shred, no.”

“Gods, you can be such an ass. What I mean is, how are you going to prove it? Nopony’s going to mess with Star Swirl’s ‘ward’ without proof.”

“I don’t know. I checked the registry at town hall; Stasis is listed as a foundling, not an orphan, with Star Swirl as his legal guardian. I tried to find out details: who determined that Stasis was abandoned? Was any effort made to find his parents? Was there an investigation? But his records were sealed, and the clerk was…less than helpful.”

“Okay…so?”

“So, I borrowed a number of texts on relevant law from the library, and consulted a lawyer.”

“You ‘consulted a lawyer’? You’re some kind of freak, you know that?”

“He was very helpful, but after doing some surreptitious investigations of his own, all he could tell me was that the normal laws had been’ circumvented via royal dispensation.’ Not necessarily a direct act of the sovereign, but strings in the capitol were definitely pulled, doubtless by Star Swirl himself. The lawyer was noticeably less helpful after that; he told me to drop the case.”

“Sucks for you. But hey, I have an idea: why not talk to Star Swirl? Or would that be too easy? Gods only know what you’d do if you didn’t have some wrongdoing to obsess over.”

“I took out a number of books from the library; none of them were particularly helpful, but I did find a number of anecdotes that suggest that changelings may have the power to influence the minds of their prey. This would explain Star Swirl’s strange behavior and protectiveness of Stasis.”

“So, Star Swirl the Bearded’s six-year-old foster son is actually a vampiric incubus with diabolical mind-control powers.”

“Yes.”

“…Alright, I can dig it. Keep going.”

“The only pony in Trottingham whom I know could help me, therefore, is the only one I know I can’t trust. I’ve tried to speak to my father about it, of course, but he just laughs and tells me to relax and go out and have a good time…as usual. Considering that he’s both the ex-Chief Constable and my father, he never seems to understand how important it is to be vigilant if we want to protect ponies, or how important this is to me.”

“You never fail to bring a tear to my eye, Pierce. You’re a lot like onions in that.”

“I didn’t even bother to ask him if I could go to Everfree City, where I might actually stand a chance of finding some knowledgeable books on changelings so that I can know what I’m up against. And I’ve not received replies to my letters to the Princesses or the Captain of the Guard. Clearly, with both my father and Star Swirl opposing me, I can’t look forward to support from either the constabulary or the Equestrian military.”

“By Celestia…you mean to say that Celestia just ignored you like that? Luna too? What are we paying them for, if not to answer the letters of middle-school students about changelings-in-our-midst?”

“It was a very well-articulated and thought-out argument. There was no reason for it to be summarily rejected.”

“How is that you can be so smart and so stupid at the same time? You’re some kind of bipolar, dude.”

“My point is, no matter what I’ve tried so far, I’ve been blocked at every turn. Even Crimson, as wonderful and…exciting, as she is, thinks I’m being…foolish.”

“No. Surely not Crimson, too!”

“Yes. She doesn’t say it, of course, but I can see that she’s just humoring me. I need to prove my suspicions correct, if for no other reason than to show her that she should learn to trust my instincts. I’m not wrong in this. I can see the truth, even if nopony else can.”

“This is why I love you, Pierce. The animal magnetism…the modesty and humility…what’s not to like?”

“Is that what you think this is? A joke? Look me in the eye and listen to me, Cleave. My father is a cripple now. This morning, I had to change his diaper. He laughs about it, but I know he remembers when he didn’t need a walker, when he could help others instead of being helpless. Is that what you want to happen to Star Swirl the Bearded? How about yourself, or somepony you know?”

“Buzzkill. Okay, I’m with you, Pierce. What do you need from me and the boys?”

“I’m not sure yet. But I know that you, for all your faults, will believe me even when nopony else does. That’s what I need more than anything else right now.”

“Uh…thanks…I think? What’s the plan, though? I know you wouldn’t have come to me without a plan.”

“Well, while Stasis seems to have prodigious magical talent, I’ve seen no obvious signs that he’s stealing the energy from anypony else. Of course, Star Swirl is a large well to draw from, but without visible signs of deterioration, I can’t count that as proof.”

“He needs love first, right? I think we’re safe.”

“Perhaps, though you forget his native mind-magic. Anyway, I’ve tried intimidating him into panicking and making some kind of mistake, but it’s not produced any useful results as of yet. I think he may be in collusion with other changelings in the area, but I’m not certain who.”

“Still seems like a roundabout way of going about this. I mean, if you’re right, that means he’s got fangs, and fly wings, and holes in his legs, for Celestia’s sake. Can’t you just…I don’t know…look at his reflection in a mirror or something?”

“I was just getting to that. The changeling impersonation illusion is apparently quite complex and deep-seated in changeling physiology; as long as the changeling is impersonating something physically similar to itself, it’s almost impossible to see through. And since Stasis doesn’t seem to be impersonating another pony, we can’t follow the traditional method of exposing changelings, by showing differences between who they are and who they are pretending to be.”

“So? Dispel it.”

“The books I read were annoyingly devoid of specifics; all I could gather was that the changeling illusion is significantly different than normal unicorn magic. Unicorns may not even be able to replicate it at all. That also means that the spell is highly resistant to normal dispels; you might see tell-tale flickers or flaws, but the illusion would remain. Fortunately, there is a counterspell that can shatter the illusion at a fundamental level, also rendering the changeling temporarily dazed. Unfortunately, it is not a simple counterspell, and the only ponies I know to have it are the royal guard.”

“There are still a couple of brassers hanging around town. They might actually talk to you; you’d fit right in.”

“There are. And don’t call them ‘brassers.’ But it doesn’t matter; I’d need a unicorn to learn the spell, and that rules out myself, you, and most of the ponies I know.”

“Gutsy’s got a horn. He’d give it a shot if I told him to.”

“Gutsy is an idiot.”

“Well, gods, Pierce, half the ponies in this town are idiots by your standards. What do you expect me to do?”

“That’s not true. I’m certain that Gutsy is skilled in certain things, but higher thinking is not one of them; he never got beyond basic levitation in school. What I need is a unicorn skilled in magic, unaffiliated with Stasis or Star Swirl, and willing to invest a potentially significant amount of time in helping me expose Stasis as a changeling.”

“Well, if I see any of those walking around, I’ll let you know.”

“Thank you. Without such an ally, I’m not sure how to move forward.”

“How is that when you get a fillyfriend, you become more uptight?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about. What does Crimson have to do with anything?”

“Here’s another idea: how about we persuade him to take off the illusion himself? No need to make things any more complicated than they have to be.”

“How do you expect for us to do that?”

There was a chuckle. “Well, me and the boys can be very persuasive when we want to be. It shouldn’t be that hard to get Tard and Whitey away from him for a little while. Then we’ll just…gods. You’re giving me The Look again, aren’t you?”

There was silence.

“Oh, gods. You are. I thought only horrid old hags and uptight shopkeepers could give that look, but there it is. It’s like you’re damning me with your eyes.”

“If I hear of you assaulting anyone for any reason, I will haul you in front of the magistrate myself.”

“Suit yourself. I mean, I’m sorry about what happened to your dad and all, but for myself, I couldn’t care less if this whole freakin’ town was overrun with the things. In fact, No Pain would probably like it better that way. Got it in his head that he wants to marry a lady changeling when he grows up. That’s the problem with school; now that he finally knows how to read, he keeps getting these freaky romance novels from the library –“

“I don’t want to know.”

“And you think I do? How is that we always talk about your problems, and never my problems? If I’m going to be your shrink, I should be getting paid in more than threats and evil eyes.”

“All you ever want to do is talk about your problems. Problems are meant to be solved.”

“I love you, too.”

“I feel as if we’re getting off the subject.”

“So, just to check: there’s no chance that he’s just a brat with an unlucky complexion, some weird foreign name, and the bad luck to show up in town right in the middle of a changeling invasion?”

“No.”

“Fine, then. I’ll see what I can do about finding that unicorn of yours. But you owe me, alright? If I help beat off the starts of another changeling invasion, you owe me big.”

“As long as you don’t ask me to do or help in anything remotely immoral, unethical, or illegal.”

“Oh, yeah, that’s a huge help. Maybe I’ll ask you to help my granny cross the street, huh? Old witch’s the only one who gives a worse evil eye than you.”

“Very well. But hurry; we may not have much time. The books I’ve read suggest that changelings have an insatiable lust for energy, and little enough in the way of consciences; to them, we’re just food.”

“Huh. Sounds a lot like Gutsy. I swear, the looks that guy gives me sometimes…I think he’s a cannibal.”

“…I should go.”

“See what I mean? Every time I’ve got a problem….”

The sound of hooves on soft grass approached. Stasis strained his hearing, trying to pick up the slightest whi–

Uh-oh.

He rushed backwards, making shooing motions towards the other two ponies, trying to get them out in front of the school before –

“Luna’s holy flank...what are you three doing here?” asked a voice behind Stasis.

Stasis ceased trying to shove Major and, removing his hooves from the orange pony’s chest, smiled over his shoulder. “Nothing! Nothing at all. We were just…uh….”

“Coming here to play?” Major suggested helpfully.

Stasis’ smile grew wider. “That’s right! We were on our way to –“

“Stasis was spying on you.”

Stasis swore vengeance against Goldie and all her progeny, to the seventh generation.

Cleave spat on the ground and glared at Stasis.

“Do you guys want to play with us?” asked Major.

Cleave glanced at Pierce, who shook his head almost imperceptibly.

“As much as I’d like to ride the see-saw with you, Major, I’m going to have to pass,” Cleave said. “I’m supposed to meet up with Suckerpunch, anyway. Says he knows a place with unlimited milkshake refills, and I plan to nom-vom until either I or the manager passes out. See ya later.”

“Wait.” Goldie’s eyes narrowed. “Are you one of those guys who was making fun of Major yesterday?”

Cleave blinked. “Uh….”

“Oh, that’s right! I’d forgotten about that!” Major exclaimed.

“What’s she talking about, Cleave?” Pierce asked coolly.

“Uh…I gotta go,” the earth pony with a cleaver cutie-mark said, trotting quickly away.

“Hey!” Goldie yelled, scampering quickly after him. “Hey, you stop right there! I’m telling on you!”

Pierce turned and stared at Stasis, his face more reminiscent of stone than living flesh. “You were spying on me,” he said coldly.

“I wasn’t planning to spy on you,” Stasis protested. “We were just coming here to play, and you just happened to be here and discussing your plans. Clearly, I was meant to spy on you. You can’t hold it against me for fulfilling what fate so obviously desires!” he explained logically.

“I see. I suppose there’s nothing else to say, then.” The large, blue earth pony turned and walked past Stasis, giving Major the slightest nod as he made his way towards the road.

“I think Pierce is angry with you again,” Major said doubtfully. “Maybe you shouldn’t have spied on him like that? Maybe I should go tell him I’m sorry….”

Stasis didn’t reply; he was too busy looking at the retreating Pierce, thinking. After a few moments, the orange earth pony trotted off after him.

Clearly, increasing his pony-ish-ness was a futile effort at this point. Stasis was yet a little changeling, incapable of casting even the simplest of fireballs. Still, he was clever, and that would have to be enough.

One way or another, if he wanted to live amongst the ponies without fear, he would have to find a way to deal with Pierce.

Rebel Without a Crew

Stasis schemed. Not the petty schemes of hatchlings; not the evasions of watchers and wizards, not the theft of teeth and sweet treats, not the touching of the strange and forbidden. No, the time for lesser villainy had passed. Stasis’ littleness grew a little less every day, and it was time he put the schemes of his youth behind him.

What he really needed was a big scheme, epic even, that would shatter Pierce and sweep the pieces under the heavy throw rug of destruction. But what would it be? What schemes did he even possess that could be brought to bear against such a foe?

Stasis tried to imagine what his family would do in such a situation. Mother’s thoughts were beyond him. So were Nit’s, though for very different reasons. Thor would bluster and swag, and Chigger would probably try to count something. Mag would use her feminine wiles, powers still beyond Stasis’ reach. Coxa would collect things and then cry like a little hatchling when someling took them away. Vertex would….

…Well, whatever Vertex would do, it would most likely involve spells that Stasis did not know, weapons with which he was not armed, or physical size and strength that he did not possess. Stasis did not think that Vertex’s methods were well suited to little changelings, or ones who couldn’t just leave the aftermath of their actions behind them when they returned to the forest.

No, Stasis would have to be cleverer than that. More cunning. He either needed to dissuade Pierce from his quest – a task akin to persuading a dragon to go vegan when you were halfway down its gullet – or else somehow ensure that all of his efforts remained futile. But how to do that? Stasis pondered further.

…He recalled the strange conversation between Pierce and Cleave. Clearly, Pierce wasn’t willing to try to drive Stasis away himself – or let other adolescents do it. He wanted to convince the adult ponies of Stasis’ changelinghood and have them burn him at the stake, or starve him, or feed him to their ravenous solar deities or whatever it was that they did to convicted changelings around here.

At least these Equestrians didn’t seem familiar with any of the less-sophisticated means of rooting out his kind. No ‘swimmings’ here, no blood hounds. Instead, in Equestria’s usual methodical, magical way, they had a spell. A spell which Pierce did not know, and could not know, being the hornless pseudo-cripple that he was. A spell which he needed help to cast, from a unicorn that he needed help to find.

So…Pierce’s greatest threat at the moment, then, was that he would convince others to assist him in his speciesism. And what Stasis needed to do was to make sure that no one ever listened to anything that Pierce ever had to say, ever. And how hard could that be? What did Pierce have going for him, besides his powerful physical presence, his forceful personality, or his nigh-pathological refusal to lie or commit even the slightest, most innocent of iniquities?

…This could be difficult. It wouldn’t be if Stasis could simply spread lies about Pierce, but the ponies’ willingness to believe Stasis’ prevarications seemed to be inversely proportional to the amount of time Stasis spent amongst them. It was as if they were developing some kind of natural Stasis-immunity or something.

What he needed was for somepony else to destroy Pierce’s reputation for him. But therein lay the maddening paradox: anypony honest enough to be believed was, by necessity, too honest to lie. Of course, Stasis could try and trick some honest pony into believing the lie and then spreading it himself, acting as an oblivious host, spreading his slanderous infection to everypony around him…but time was of the essence, and in deceiving even a single pony, he encountered the same problem of trustworthiness that he faced in deceiving many. Stasis needed a way to destroy Pierce’ reputation now, before Pierce had a chance to further his own plans.

But wait! What if the honest pony lying was itself a lie? What if there existed a creature so black, so terrible, so dire, that it could steal another creature’s face and wear it as its own? Yea, take their identity, their very self, and twist it to every end most foul and perverse? What if this dark fantasy, this deep fear, this demon leapt from nightmare and abyss, were none other than Stasis himself?

The little changeling grinned. He had not assumed an identity other than his own since he had come to Trottingham; not once. Not even when it might have saved him from rampaging principles and rabid wizards. They came after him with paddles and harsh words; he doubted the royal guard would grant him such mercy.

As uninspired and monotonous as his tutors’ lessons had been, he still remembered what they had said about assuming other identities while infiltrated: don’t. “With every form you choose,” they had made him recite, “another year you lose.” (The time in which they forced him to memorize it in the old tongue, in which it didn’t even rhyme, had been one of those defining moments in Stasis’ life in which he realized that his profound distaste for others may sometimes, in fact, be reciprocated.)

Now, given that Stasis was effectively immortal and thus had an infinite pool of years to draw from, he wasn’t sure precisely how the rhyme applied to him. Still, he took the point.

…But this was an emergency. A potentially life-threatening emergency, even. To save his life, every option had to be on the table, even his unholy changeling powers.

His path now set, the only thing to decide was: who? Who would he impersonate in order to subsequently defile Pierce’s reputation? It had to be somepony of unquestionable integrity, unimpeachable honor, unassailable purity. Somepony so good, so righteous, so inviolably honest that nopony would dare question his word, as if it came from the mouth of Celestia herself.

“Hey, Stasis?” called out an orange voice.

“Come on, Major! I’m scheming! You know you’re not supposed to interrupt me while I’m scheming!” Stasis rebuked his companion.

Major pointed at a glass on the table between them. “I just wanted you to know that your milkshake is melting.”

“Stupid pony milk-sugar-ice concoctions…” muttered Stasis, who quickly snatched his straw and began sipping greedily.

“Are you alright? You’ve been really quiet all day,” said Major, whose own glass sat empty before him.

“I’m fine. I’ve just got stuff I’ve got to think about,” Stasis explained. “Wicked stuff. You wouldn’t understand.”

“Oh. Okay.” Major swirled his straw about his cup absently for a few moments before continuing. “You know, Goldie’s waiting for us at the park…I don’t want her to think that we’ve forgotten her or anything….”

Stasis sighed wistfully.

“I know that Star Swirl likes for me to keep an eye on you and make sure that you’re alright –“

“He says that it’s for my own protection,” Stasis mumbled. “I think he just likes being a fascist, though.”

“ – but I was wondering if maybe I could go on ahead? I don’t want you to have to throw away your milkshake.”

Stasis looked out the window at the pony throngs without, their pastels shining brightly under the midday sun. He waved dismissively at Major with one hoof. “Go frolic with Goldie, if you must. I’ll probably be feeling too sick to play for a while after I finish this huge milkshake, anyway.”

“Thanks, Stasis. See you later!” Major said, happily dashing out the door of the malt shop.

Stasis sighed and resumed his scheming without interruption. Now, whose identity to take? So many ponies, so many to choose from! It should be somepony I know well enough to imitate. Somepony guileless and unassuming. Somepony above reproach. Somepony –

Wait.

* * *

Stasis’ left ear pivoted, pointing towards the door, alert to the telltale clip-clop sounds of any approaching public-restroom-goers. He swiftly checked himself in the mirror, his body tense and ready to dash back into one of the stalls at the sight of the slightest imperfection.

Orange coat, clean and inexpertly brushed. Oranger mane, short-cut and slightly mussed. Not-orange eyes, open and honest. Stasis tried to imitate Major’s wide grin, to mixed success; as it turned out, innocence and unfettered congeniality were harder to imitate than Stasis would have thought.

The masque was much roomier than his old one, that was for sure. He had grown used to its tight restraints, removing them only at night so that he could sleep in peace; now, Major’s form almost felt too big, at the limits of what even Stasis’ magic could replicate. His wings didn’t feel crushed against his body for once, although his horn brought a new discomfort, as if the protuberance had been pushed partway into his skull, putting pressure in and under his forehead.

Still, overall, Stasis was quite satisfied. Even the cutie-mark was perfectly placed, perfectly shaped. He swooshed his tail experimentally; it looked just the right thickness, just the right length. Unless Major had some kind of subtle birthmark or scar that Stasis didn’t know about, he doubted there was a pony in all the land that, just by looking at him, could tell he wasn’t who he pretended to be.

He gave himself another smile in the mirror, the large white teeth somehow still looking a bit too predatory to his critical eye. Oh, well. It wasn’t as if he would be wearing this masque for very long, anyway. He would just ruin Pierce’s life, and then Major could have his identity back.

Now, how to go about the rest of his plan? Simple rumors wouldn’t be enough, not for this. Pierce would shed rumors like water off a duck. It had to be something serious, something that would make Pierce out to be a miscreant of the worst order.

What were some of the things that Star Swirl had told him a good pony should never do? You touch my stuff again, lad, and I’ll turn your mane into a mop, your horn into a toothpick, and your hooves into toys for small children.

No, that wouldn’t work. How about: Exactly what part of vandalizing lawn gnomes was appealing to you, lad? Did they throw rocks at you, or call you names? Why would you even do this?

Closer. Definitely closer. That’s it. New rule: no borrowing for Stasis, ever! You understand, lad? I don’t want you ‘borrowing’ lemon drops or cinnamon rolls, I don’t want you ‘borrowing’ Mrs. Busybody’s dentures, I don’t want you ‘borrowing’ dandruff from atop Major’s head! Don’t do the borrowing, don’t speak the borrowing, don’t even think the borrowing! Next time I hear the words ‘borrow’ and ‘Stasis’ in the same sentence that doesn’t include the word ‘library,’ so help me, I’ll –

Stasis didn’t borrow any more. Still, he had found his answer: petty theft! Not that he would have to actually do the petty thieving, of course – that would incriminate Major, not Pierce – he merely had to convince others that the petties had been thieved. And in all of Stasis’ experience on the subject, no ponies freaked out about thievery as much as shopkeepers, who seemed particularly hateful towards this clever method of economic circumvention. (Well, nopony who wasn’t wreathed about with bells and possessing of a mighty paddling-hoof of judgment, anyway.)

Now he just had to decide who –

Creaaaaak.

Stasis turned around fearfully, eyes wide as an adult pony pushed open the door and stepped into the small public restroom. Seeing Stasis, he smiled.

“Hey, Major! How’s it going?” the pony asked cheerfully.

“Uh…good?” Stasis replied.

The pony must have seen the light of nonrecognition in Stasis’ eyes, for his head cocked to the side and his smile took on a slightly bemused cant.

“Hey now, Major. You remember me, don’t you?”

Actually, no. Ponies pretty much all looked the same to the little changeling. Unfortunately, Major possessed a memory of other ponies bordering on the eidetic.

Stasis smiled as he flexed his vocal chords, changing to the orange pony’s deeper voice and warm, cordial tones. “Of course I do! I’m Major! How could I ever forget a pony as memorable and non-nondescript as you?”

The pony’s smile tightened a bit. “Uh…right. Well, it’s good seeing you, Major.”

“It’s great seeing you, too!” Stasis exclaimed, careful to put his companion’s characteristic enthusiasm into every word. The pony’s smile tightened further as he moved quickly into a stall, bladder obviously filled to overflowing.

Stasis looked at himself – at his new self – in the mirror, and grinned wickedly. Success! Who needed skill or experience when they had pure, raw talent? And all of his brothers and sisters had made it out as if this was the hardest thing in the world! What a bunch of weaklings.

Stasis/Major – Stajor? – chuckled maliciously to himself, the sounds of his gleeful wickedry echoing around the public restroom, every stain and crudely-carved love-note seeming to glow with its own dark, inner light.

* * *

Stajor strode into Strudel’s Sweets and Sustenance with all swagger. His disguise was flawless; his plan perfect; his cunning, absolute. He could do this.

The scents of steaming fresh bread mixed with those of brown sugar and darkest chocolate to assault the little changeling’s sensitive nose, the earlier milkshake sloshing about as his stomach swooned. Milk chocolate cookies, white chocolate cookies, and dark chocolate cookies; sugar cookies, peanut butter cookies, and rainbow cookies; macaroons, snickerdoodles, and oreos, all lined up in rows ordered by some arcane baker’s methodology. So many grains and salts and fats; so much oil and milk and eggs, mixed and fermented and baked in so many ways as to drive mere mathematicians and magicians mad with confusion and hunger.

How ponies could stand to have so much food so readily available but beyond their fiscal reach, Stajor couldn’t imagine. It was only his superior nature and iron will that kept him from leaping upon the bready foodstuffs in a crazed orgy of puerile gluttony. And if the ponies should ever learn to embrace their inner carnivore and open a butchery, not all the paddles in the world could keep him from borrowing everything in sight.

Looking over the food-laden counter, Stajor saw Mr. Strudel himself, an earth pony with a pale orange coat that seemed somehow sickly next to Major’s own neon glory. Mr. Strudel’s coat sheened with its characteristic lather, a byproduct of the large ovens in the rear of the store, tended by Mrs. Strudel, that kept the shop sweltering during these warm summer months.

Mr. Strudel finished decorating a cake and, setting aside his pastry bag and wiping the sweat from his brow, he saw Stajor and smiled.

“Heyo! And how are you doing on this fine midsummer’s day, Major? Life treating you well?”

“Uh…yeah?” Stajor answered. Remembering Major’s singular courtesy, he asked, “How are you?”

“Fine, fine, fine,” Mr. Strudel answered, taking a sip from a large mug marked ‘World’s #1 Baker.’ “Business is a bit slow right now, but it’s always like that after the breakfast rush, especially during the summer. Bet that new malt shop’s feeding its customers as fast as it can magic-up the ice, but we’ll see if it can survive the long winter we’ve got around these parts. But enough about that. You interested in buying a little something for yourself, or maybe that friend of yours?”

“Uh…no,” Stajor replied, his voice even. Major was prone to wild bouts of enthusiasm over the simplest of pleasantries, but this was serious business, and it was important that he keep his countenance somber.

“Well, then, what’s up? You just come by to say hello?” Mr. Strudel asked, eyes twinkling.

Experience had taught Stasis that stopping by a pastry shop just to say hello to the owner was not normal behavior, even by pony standards. That, of course, meant that it was Major’s modus operandi.

“No,” Stajor said, shaking his head sadly. “I’ve come by to deliver dire…I mean, to give dire…I mean, to give bad news!” he finished.

Mr. Strudel blinked. “What?”

“I’ve come by to give bad news!” Stajor repeated, cursing Major’s limited vocabulary and syntax.

Mr. Strudel frowned. “News? What news?”

“Yesterday, I saw Pierce steal from your store,” Stajor answered.

Mr. Strudel stared. “Pierce? Big Blue’s son?”

“Uh…right!” Stajor replied, not knowing the name of Pierce’s father, but assuming that the stock of ‘Pierces’ in Trottingham was probably pretty limited.

“You saw Pierce steal from my store? Yesterday?”

“He took food, and he didn’t pay for it,” Stajor said slowly, hoping to alleviate the look of mild bewilderment on Mr. Strudel’s face.

After a moment, Mr. Strudel asked, “And you saw this yourself? Why didn’t you tell me until now?”

“Um…because of fear of retribution!” Stajor answered, his momentary panic robbing him of the ability to speak entirely in words of less than three syllables. “Pierce gave me his death-gaze, and I panicked! It took me an entire day to get up the courage to speak to you!”

“I…see,” said Mr. Strudel, in that tone of voice a pony uses when they don’t understand a thing. “I’ll…uh…I guess I’ll talk to his parents? I mean, maybe they’re in some kind of trouble that I don’t know about. Big Blue did break his back and all…maybe he’s having troubles with his pension, but’s too proud to ask for help?”

“As long as Pierce suffers justice,” Stajor affirmed.

Mr. Strudel rubbed the back of his neck. “Huh. Yeah. Well…thanks for telling me, Major. You did the right thing.”

Stajor saluted before dashing out the door, grinning wide and cackling with success.

One down. Every other shop in Trottingham left to go!

* * *

Stajor stopped in front of Codger’s Break and Buy, the last store that he had time to visit today. While the various owners and shopkeepers had all professed to believe Stajor’s story and promised to look into the matter, their outrage over Pierce’s grand betrayal had been a bit…underwhelming. Stajor needed to insure that this was a blow from which his blue stone-eyed nemesis could never recover. To that end he had come here, to Trottingham’s premiere purveyor of antiquities, a stallion so old, so encrusted and cranky and full of child-hate that even Star Swirl couldn’t help but speak admirably of him.

It was said that when Codger was born, he was already over a hundred years old and the first thing he did was smack another baby right on its bottom. It was said that he had first made his fortune in the design and manufacture of paddles so big, so hard, so cold, that even the Equestrian Association of Elementary School Principles was horrified and outlawed the things, forcing him to become an antiquarian instead. It was said that even Major couldn’t stand the pedophobe and avoided him, a rumor which the orange pony denied vociferously.

Taking a deep breath, Stajor passed the ‘No Minors Allowed: Violators Will Be Yelled At’ sign and entered the store. Stepping over the threshold was like stepping into some alien dreamscape, the bright hues and sweet smells of summer replaced by dimly-lit non-flammable crystals and the scents of wood varnish and old grease. Clocks of manifold shapes and sizes lined the walls, some with three hands, some with two, and one even had five, the extras pointing to the phases of the moon and the cycles of the sun. Some tables and drawers were intricately carved from woods Stajor could not recognize by either sight or smell, while others were almost childishly simple, though neither seemed to have a place of importance above the other. Lining every available surface were knick-knacks and tools so numerous, so eclectic, that Stajor began to think that he had finally found the source for much of Star Swirl’s own prized collection.

Though no bell rang to mark his entrance and the door swung open and shut upon exquisitely oiled hinges, a stallion’s head snapped over the edge of the counter at the far end of the building. Codger’s mane was large and extended so far down his neck and cheeks that he almost seemed to have a beard of his own, but where Star Swirl’s was thick and luscious, Codger’s was thin, almost wispy, and seemed to stick out straight from his face as if wreathed in static electricity. A strange band about his head attached to an odd monocle over one eye, which enlarged its appearance to almost cyclopean proportions. The eye didn’t look happy to see Stajor.

“I know you,” said Codger, his voice sounding slightly croaky and unused. “You’re that chipper chap that’s always standing outside my door, yelling salutations across the store like a madpony. What do you want?”

“I didn’t come here to touch any of your stuff or anything,” Stajor said quickly.

Codger’s glare seemed to intensify, as if the very suggestion of such a thing enraged him.

“I just wanted to tell you about something Pierce did…you know Pierce, right?” Stajor asked, concerned. Most everypony in town seemed to have at least heard of Pierce and Major, if for different reasons…but Codger didn’t get out much.

“I know of him, yes,” was Codger’s reply. “He’s welcome to peruse my wares when he turns sixteen, just like all the rest.”

“But I saw him in here yesterday!” Stajor continued, cutting to the chase. “He took one of the things off your tables and put it in his bag without paying for it!”

“What!” Codger exploded, the monocle popping right off his head as his face flushed red. “That mulish grabby-hooved son of a cider-swiller! What’d he take?”

“I…I don’t know?” Stajor answered. “The lighting’s so poor in here, I couldn’t see!”

“Poor lighting? What do you lot want me to do, light a bloody bonfire amidst all the bloody wood so that you don’t strain your wee little eyes? I – wait.” Codger’s eyes narrowed. “What were you doing in here, anyway? Or were you filling up your saddlebags too, and thought you’d rat out your competitor?”

“No!” Stajor replied quickly. “I was outside, looking in through the windows! I would never go anywhere that I wasn’t supposed to, or take anything that wasn’t mine!”

Codger grunted, though his look of suspicion didn’t fade. “And when did you say this happened?”

“Yesterday?” Stajor replied nervously.

“When yesterday? Or are you so daft that you can’t tell time when you’re snooping about a store filled with bloody clocks?” Codger growled.

“Around…noon? Maybe?” Stajor tried to dodge.

“Impossible!” roared the old stallion. “I never left my store once during the entire time I was open yesterday, and there is no way some trifling, some trinket-taking spawn of swineherds and fungus-munchers could have snuck in here without me knowing it!”

“But…uh…maybe you were in the bathroom?” Stajor suggested desperately.

“Do you know how old I am, you short-legged fat-bellied pseudo-dwarf? I don’t use the facilities very often, but when I do, it’s a production. You think I just leave my store open when that happens?”

“Uh….”

“Speaking of bathrooms,” Codger continued, his voice a perpetual yell, “you’re so full of crap, I could smell it when you walked in the door! Spouting lies about others when it’s clear you’re the one after my antiques all along! Liar! Foul-mouthed tender-hoofed son of thieves and gypsies!”

“I should go,” Stajor affirmed, turning around and making for the exit with haste.

“Hey! Hey, you! Come back here!” came the cry behind Stajor, quickly followed by the sound of overlarge hooves on plank floor.

Stajor shoved through the door and dashed away from the store, weaving around pedestrians as he made in the direction most directly away from Codger’s Break and Buy. A moment later, the sound of a door slamming open echoed down the street.

“Hey! What’s your name, you smarmy little sweet-tongued son of flatterers and flirts! You prevaricating midget of a stallion, you unrighteous spawn of slippery eels and cheeky foxes! You tell me your name!”

A mare leapt back in alarm as Stajor made a hard turn, galloping into an alley and behind a large sack overflowing with refuse. The moment he was hidden and, seeing nopony looking his way from the opposite end of the narrow pathway, he flashed bright yellow as he changed his masque, the familiar constriction of his usual pony form passing over his body as quickly as he could make it. Pausing the barest second to check the quality of his disguise, he dashed across the alleyway to the opposite end from whence he’d entered.

The moment the sun’s light brushed directly over his body once more, he slowed down, merging with the casual flow of Trottinghammers on a pleasant summer evening. Forcibly quelling his short breath and swift heart, he continued onward for several minutes, destination-less, until he was certain that he had lost his pursuit. Then he smoothly doubled back towards Star Swirl’s house, his eyes looking nonchalantly forward but his mind carefully watching his peripheral vision for signs of suspicion or pursuit, just as his tutors had taught him.

Perhaps it was best if he just remained as Stasis-the-little-pony-child for a while, and observed the effects of his machinations. After all, even Pierce’s pristine reputation surely couldn’t survive such a raging holocaust of lies and deceptions.

Right?

* * *

Wrong.

“I-I’m sorry Stasis, but I can’t play with you today, o-or maybe ever!” Major cried. “I-I’m really sorry….”

Star Swirl patted the orange colt gently on the back. “There, there, lad. There, there.”

A tissue wrapped in blue magic levitated out of a pocket in the wizard’s coat, and Major blew his nose as he struggled not to sob.

Tell a little lie, get paddled. Steal a little candy, get paddled. Frame a little pony, get paddled.

“Come on, lad,” Star Swirl said softly. “Tell us what happened.”

“W-well, it started yesterday after dinner, when me and Dad went on a walk,” Major began. “We saw Mr. Codger walking home from his shop, but when we said hi, he started yelling at me! Dad took him aside and talked to him for a few minutes, but he wouldn’t tell me what they talked about, he just said that old Mr. Codger was confused, so I didn’t worry too much about it.

“Really early this morning, though, Mr. Strudel showed up at our house, and he and Dad talked for a while, and Dad said that I needed to stay home while he figured something out. He came back a while ago and said that he talked to Mrs. Jiggle, and Mr. Basily, and even little Apple Crumpet over at the Apple Emporium, and they all said the same thing: that yesterday I’d told them that Pierce had been stealing from their stores!”

“Hmm,” Star Swirl said, his lips twisting into a frown. “Go on.”

“I told Dad that I’d been playing with Goldie all yesterday afternoon, so I couldn’t have said those things, but he said that everypony agrees that it was me, and when he went by to see Pierce and his parents, they gave him an alibi!” Major continued, looking up beseechingly into Star Swirl’s blue eyes. “But how can I have an alibi, Mr. Swirl? I don’t even know what that is! All I’ve got is Goldie, but Dad won’t listen to either of us!”

Paddled, paddled, paddled. Even life paddles me now. When do I get to be the one doing the paddling?

Major blew his nose into the tissue again, his eyes watery and his breathing labored as he looked back and forth between Stasis and Star Swirl. “Goldie went home all upset, and now Dad says that I’m grounded until I tell him the truth. But I am telling him the truth! I would never lie to my Dad!”

He looked Stasis in the eye, his own pleading. “B-but…but you believe me, right, Stasis?”

Stasis stared back at his companion. “Uhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh….”

“Of course we believe you, lad,” Star Swirl said, patting Major on the back again as he gave Stasis a sharp look. “I reckon this is just some kind of misunderstanding that’ll probably blow over in a day or two. Why don’t you just go home and relax for a while, eh? You’ve not done anything wrong, so there’s no reason for you to worry about it.”

Star Swirl’s tone was warm, but Stasis could taste his worry, and Major’s misery. He tried to tune out the bitter flavors.

“Thanks, Mr. Swirl,” Major said softly, his eyes downcast. “I’m sorry again, Stasis; I know I said that I’d play with you today, but I just…can’t. Bye.”

The orange colt turned about and walked slowly out the door. Star Swirl shut it quietly behind him.

Stasis watched the old wizard carefully, searching for the slightest hint of suspicion. But Star Swirl didn’t even look at the little changeling, instead just walking back towards the rear rooms, his expression hard and unreadable.

Stasis stood alone in the living room for a time, listening to the blood in his ears. Thinking.

…I could have just masqued myself as Pierce instead.

* * *

Stasis stood behind the carefully-trimmed hedges, peeking through at Major’s house on the other side of the road. Not because it was a particularly nice pony house to look at. It wasn’t. It was small, simple, and – perhaps most surprising of all – a rather faded shade of blue, which was quite possibly the most un-orange color that Stasis had ever seen.

No, he was stalking Major’s house because he had nothing – absolutely nothing – better to do. He dare not try anything else against Pierce so soon, not after this fiasco. Major was trapped in his own home, and Goldie was so upset that she refused to come out of hers. (Yes, he had gone to see Goldie. These were desperate times.)

And what else was there? He’d tried reading some books, but the novels seemed boring; the tomes, dense and unintelligible. The park was useless, full of strangers; the malt shop milkshakes tasted cold and oversweet. Everything seemed spoiled now, for some reason. Try as he might, as vast and as deep as his intellect might be, Stasis couldn’t think of a single, solitary thing that he wanted to do, now or later, here or elsewhere.

So he’d come up with a plan. A new plan, far superior to yesterday’s, that would solve everything in one, fell swoop. Best of all, it was something that he could act on right away, which was important because Stasis felt like he was going to start chewing on his own leg if he had to suffer another hour of this malaise.

Inspecting the house closely, he recognized Major’s room, marked by a window on the second floor. And right below that, his means of ingress.

Moving from behind the hedges, he crossed the nearly-empty street at a brisk yet casual trot, trying not to look as if he was about to break into somepony’s home. As soon as he was underneath Major’s window, he stopped and looked around, searching for spying eyes. Seeing nopony, he inspected his next obstacle.

Stretching up the side of the house was a faded white trellis, the kind that ponies used to grow those vines which they approved of. A pony would look at this trellis and see nothing but a lattice of white planks, crossing each other at simple right angles. Useless for aught but vine-growing and wood-burning.

Stasis, fortunately, was no pony. And he saw it for what it truly was: a series of holes stretching to the window high above, each one just about the size and shape of a little changeling’s hoof. Even without the use of his wings, Stasis had found a way.

Hooking his right forehoof into the highest hole he could reach, Stasis used it to hold himself in place as he inserted his rear hooves into lower holes and, with great strain, began to heave himself up.

Left forehoof. Right forehoof. Left hindhoof. Right hindhoof. Left forehoof. Right forehoof. Left hindhoof. Right hindhoof. He made his way up the side of the pony house slowly, ever so slowly, his small body straining at the unusual forces acting against his muscles. He was quite certain his frame was not designed to have his entire body weight pulled towards his hindquarters, which was itself pulling on his hooves, which were themselves suspended by a ring of rough wood around his fetlocks. It hurt. A lot more than he’d anticipated, actually.

Hissing quietly to himself, he pulled one forehoof out of its hole for a moment, inspecting it critically.

Hooves were unsurpassed when it came to running long distances and smashing things, it was true. Still, he was beginning to question the wisdom in having only a single digit on the end of each leg. Stasis decided that, if he ever had to be something other than a changeling, he definitely wanted to be a gryphon. Then he could fly as much as he wanted to, hunt small mammals, and climb up trellises without feeling like he was going to break his legs off – an important advantage in Stasis’ mind.

Deciding that halfway up the side of a building wasn’t the place for philosophical musings, Stasis struggled forward. Up, up, up he went, the window seeming ever closer, but still ever so far away.

His muscles burning hotly now, he paused a few paces short of the window to catch his breath. Glancing towards the street, he noticed a colt even younger than himself sitting there by the side of the road, watching him with owlish eyes. For a few long moments neither moved, each staring at the other.

Stasis tried to think of something to say, some explanation for why a little pony child would find himself walking up the side of his companion’s house in broad daylight…but in the end, what was there to say? He was almost there as it was; there was no turning back now, no excuses, no regrets.

Returning his gaze and attention back to the goal, Stasis soldiered on, wondering not-for-the-first-time why it was so incredibly important that Star Swirl not teach him how to teleport. Maybe Star Swirl liked for Stasis to have to climb trellises? Maybe he was sitting before a crystal ball somewhere even now, chuckling to himself and munching popcorn while he watched Stasis earthpony his way through life?

Desirous now to beat the cruel wizard at his own game, Stasis pushed forward, forcing himself to take the last few ‘steps.’ Finally, his legs trembling in pain, he was there, at the summit of his endeavor, at the height of his plan. As his hooves were otherwise engaged, he was forced to rely on his horn to wrap the glass in magic and pull upwards.

The window was locked. Stasis pondered this deeply for a few moments, turning it over in his mind, analyzing it critically. He tried again.

Yes, the window was indeed locked. This was not a good thing, that the window should be locked. Reluctantly, Stasis decided that an addendum to his plan was in order.

“Major!” he cried, leaning forward and banging his horn repeatedly against the pane. “Maaaajoooor! You’ve got to let me in, Major!”

An orange face appeared at the window, its mouth a frown, its eyes red and puffy. “Stasis? Why are you outside my window?” it asked, the voice muffled.

“There’s no time!” cried Stasis, whose quivering legs were beginning to hurt really, really badly. “You’ve got to open the window, Major! Open! The! Window!”

Seizing the latch with his mouth, Major twisted it around before shoving the window open with both hooves.

Swiftly pulling one forehoof out of its hole, Stasis placed it on the window ledge, but couldn’t get a good grip. If he tried to do the same with the other hoof, he would surely slip.

“Major!” he cried again. “You’ve got to pull me up quick, Major! I’m about to fall!”

Without hesitation, Major leaned out the window and wrapped both forelegs around Stasis’ head.

“Ouuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuch!” Stasis screeched as Major’s hooves dug in under his skull, his body was slowly dragged over the rough ledge, and he was finally released to crash face-first into Major’s (thankfully) carpeted floor. Stasis’ horn got rug-burn.

“Stasis, why are you in my house?” Major asked, not looking in the slightest bit grateful that the little changeling had come to save him.

No matter. Stasis had stolen his way inside and, minor hiccups aside, all was going according to plan. It was time to proceed to the second stage.

Lifting himself off the floor and taking his most determined, forceful pose, Stasis looked his best companion in the eye. “Major, I’m busting you out,” he said, with authority. “Let’s go.”

Major blinked. “What?”

“You can come and live with me and Star Swirl,” Stasis explained. “Your dad will never think to look for you there! We’ll eat cookies together every day, and read books together every night. It’ll be great!”

Major stared at him, mouth slightly agape. Then he began to cry.

And cry. And cry. And cry. Stasis was no expert, but this did not seem the ‘I’m so happy to be rescued!’ kind of weeping that pathetic weakling damsels were oft to do in stories. This seemed more like the burning, bubbling overflow of sorrow and despair that traditionally preceded the rescuing.

Stasis watched the forehooves in which his companion had buried his face begin to drip with his tears. The sobs almost seemed to burn inside Stasis; his chest felt tight as his jaw clenched, and he looked desperately about at the surrounding games and toys, hoping for any cure to the situation. At that moment, even the sound of Major’s parents coming up the stairs would have been a welcome relief.

The crying continued, and no approaching hoofsteps were heard. Nostrils flared, Stasis walked next to Major and, slowly reaching one foreleg around the orange colt’s back, he began to lightly pat his companion.

“There, there?” he tried. “There, there?”

“I…I…I’m sorry, Stasis…” Major sobbed. “I…I just…why won’t my dad believe me? He’s never not-believed me before! Never!”

“Uh…it’s just like Star Swirl said!” Stasis said, seizing on the first thing to come to mind. “You know you didn’t do anything wrong, so it doesn’t matter what anypony else thinks, right? Stand proud in your righteousness!”

“I don’t want to be right,” Major cried, his voice hoarse and strained. “I just want my dad to believe me!”

“But…but…” Stasis stuttered, trying to think of something that would make Major feel better. “But…if your dad doesn’t believe you, then that’s not your fault, right? Somepony must have tricked him!”

“What?” Major asked, straightening up and looking at Stasis with tear-stained cheeks. “What do you mean?”

Stasis licked his lips, thinking quickly. “I mean…somepony must have said all those things about Pierce, right? Somepony must have made themself look like you and then spread all those lies. Somepony who’s not you.”

“But…but why would anypony do that? Why would anypony want to get me into trouble?” Major asked, looking bewildered.

“I’m sure that’s not what happened!” Stasis protested. “I’m sure that this is all just someone’s brilliant plan gone horribly, horribly wrong!”

“But…but who would lie and lie and lie, and make it look like I was the one who did it?” Major asked. “Who do you think would do that, Stasis?”

“Well, I…uh….” Stasis wiped his brow, the room suddenly seeming small and stuffy. “I mean, does it really matter, Major? We should greet those who wrong us with forgiveness, not recriminations!”

Major rubbed at his eye with one hoof. “But how can I forgive him if I don’t know who he is, Stasis?”

“Hope will find a way,” Stasis answered. “Or something.”

Major looked away for a moment, his lip quivering. “If…if my dad believed me, I know he’d want me to forgive the pony who did this. So I guess I’ll try to do that.”

“…Oh,” was all Stasis could think to say.

Major looked at him again, his expression miserable. “I know you’re just trying to help me, Stasis, but…do you think you could maybe go away for a while? I kind of want to be alone.”

It was Stasis’ turn to look away. He had a sudden, intense desire to do something that he also really didn’t want to do and thought was terribly stupid and would most likely ruin his life. It was very confusing.

Not being one to deny himself his desires, Stasis cleared his throat. “Um…Major?”

Major blinked. “Huh?”

Stasis rubbed the back of his neck. “Well, I…may know who framed you for being a liar….”

“What? Who? Is it somepony I know?”

Stasis opened his mouth to answer...but then closed it again, and nodded.

Major watched him for a moment. “…Well? Can you tell me who it is?”

Stasis licked his lips again. “Um…well….”

“Is it a secret? Did you promise not to tell?”

Stasis did not think himself a cowardly changeling, but this was actually really, really hard. It would help if Major wasn’t staring at him so intensely, his expression so earnest, hanging on Stasis’ every word.

“…Will you be angry?” Stasis finally asked. He wasn’t sure what he was going to do if the answer was ‘yes.’

Major looked down at the floor, his brow furrowed. After a few moments, he looked up again and said, “I don’t know. I’ll try not to be.”

Stasis opened his mouth once more and forced it out. “I…am the one… who did it?”

Major looked at him as if he had lost his mind. “You? But…why would you do that, Stasis? Are you mad at me?”

“It’s…no! It’s all my brain’s fault!” Stasis cried. “All I wanted was a plan, and it gave me this one and made me think it was good!”

Major looked even more bewildered than before. “What? What plan?”

“I was trying to frame Pierce! Pierce! Not you! I just made myself look like you so that ponies would believe me. I framed you on accident!”

Major frowned. “So…you can make yourself look like other ponies? But….”

“Star Swirl’s magic,” Stasis blurted, the lie coming easily to his lips. “Star Swirl’s foul, vile illusion magic. He should never have taught me something so easily turned to sin and wickedry. He should have known that I could never resist the temptation! This is all Star Swirl’s fault! Star Swirl’s!”

“Well…okay,” Major said slowly, rubbing at one swollen eye. “I don’t really understand, but if you say that it was an accident, then I believe you. I forgive you, Stasis.”

Stasis squinted at Major for a few moments, his treacherous brain trying to catch up with the speed of Major’s words.

“What?”

“I forgive you, Stasis,” Major repeated.

“What?”

“I. Forgive. You.”

“But…but…are you sure?” Stasis asked, briefly wondering if Major’s brokenness extended beyond just his heart.

Major nodded. “I’m just glad it was an accident. I was afraid that somepony hated me for some reason.”

“But…but…but….” The sudden release of emotional tension made something get in Stasis’ eyes, and he wiped them furiously.

“It’s okay, Stasis,” Major said, hugging him briefly. “It’s going to be alright.”

“But…but…but….” Now it was Stasis’ mind that felt broken.

Major took the last tissue from a box and blew his nose vigorously. “Are you going to tell my dad now?”

“What? No!” Stasis said in alarm. “You don’t understand. I’m telling you what I did because…because….”

“Because it’s the right thing to do?” Major suggested.

“No!” Stasis exclaimed again. “No, that’s not it at all! I just…I wanted to make you feel better, I guess. You feel better now, right? Now that you know what happened?” Stasis really, really hoped that his confession hadn’t been for nothing.

Major seemed to think for a moment, then nodded. “Yeah, but…don’t you feel better now, too? Doesn’t it feel better to tell the truth?”

Stasis took the question seriously, trying to analyze his own feelings. “…I kind of feel like I’ve betrayed my principles,” he answered honestly. “But…I’m also relieved that you’re not so sad anymore? I don’t know…I’m really confused right now.”

Major hesitated. “…If you want, I could tell –“

“No!” Stasis interrupted. “No, you can’t tell anypony, Major! I don’t want to get in trouble too!”

“Oh…” Major answered, looking crestfallen. “Okay….”

“You don’t understand, Major,” Stasis pleaded. “You don’t know the kinds of things Star Swirl would do to me if he found out! It would be terrible! Horrible! I can’t even imagine it!” He literally couldn’t imagine it. He had no earthly idea what Star Swirl would do to him, but it would be terribly horrible and Stasis figured that being paddled until he couldn’t walk straight was probably on the optimistic side of things.

“Okay, Stasis…I understand,” Major said, still looking sad, but at least he wasn’t crying now. “But…there’s something about this plan you had that I still can’t figure out….”

“Yeah?” Stasis asked nervously. He really hoped that Major didn’t delve too deeply into the reasoning of why he felt the need to frame Pierce and destroy his reputation. For once in his life, Stasis didn’t feel in the mood to deceive.

“If you were trying to frame Pierce for stuff, and if you can make yourself look like other ponies now…why didn’t you just make yourself look like Pierce instead?”

* * *

Stasis dropped the last few paces to the ground, landing with an ‘oomph.’ Looking up, he saw Major pull the rope of sheets and blankets back into his room and close the window, leaving it thankfully unlatched this time.

Rubbing at his aching teeth and wishing again for more prehensile appendages, Stasis checked the area for any additional voyeurs before beginning the journey home. Giving one last look back, he saw his companion watching him silently from the window, his eyes still red and his naturally-blithe mouth twisted down into a frown. The muntins looked like nothing so much as iron bars at that moment.

Stasis turned his gaze away, and began trotting quickly home. Pondering his own feelings again, he felt strangely…unfulfilled. Wasn’t that supposed to be the draw of doing good deeds? To achieve enlightenment or inner peace or something?

And he had done good, hadn’t he? He’d confessed his error to Major and received his forgiveness – well, strictly speaking he’d ensured that he had Major’s forgiveness and only then confessed his mistake, but it all pretty much came out to the same thing – and so it seemed like he should be bubbling with joy and good cheer at the moment. Instead, now Major knew he was the one to blame for his sufferings, and Stasis still felt somehow burdened by the whole situation. Why would anypony want to live like this?

Stasis groaned. This was all his conscience’s fault somehow, he was sure. Why it should choose now of all times to afflict him, he couldn’t imagine.

Walking past the iron gate and into the house, Stasis poured himself a glass of water in the kitchen and then made his way towards his room. His muscles ached from the trellis, and he just wasn’t feeling up to doing much else today. Maybe if he went to bed really early, he’d wake up feeling better tomorrow.

As he was almost out of the living room, Star Swirl’s gruff voice stopped him.

“Lad,” he said without looking up from his work. “Come here. I want to talk to you.”

Stasis suppressed another groan and went over towards the old wizard. Usually ‘I want to talk to you’ either meant that Stasis was in trouble, or that…well, actually, it pretty much always meant that Stasis was in trouble in some form or fashion. Stasis really didn’t feel up to this right now.

Standing next to the much larger, older ungulate, Stasis wasn’t quite tall enough to see what it was Star Swirl was writing. His normal curiosity diffused, he just waited quietly.

Star Swirl’s quill continued to scratch away as he asked, “Lad, do you know where magic comes from?”

“Horns?” Stasis guessed.

“That’s a tool for using magic, but do you know where magic itself comes from? Do you know what it is?”

Stasis really wasn’t in the mood for magic lessons, but Star Swirl’s demeanor was strangely taciturn for so elementary a topic, and so he took the question seriously. “It’s a force of change, one that manifests itself most visibly as light and that can be used to order reality according to certain rules,” Stasis answered, feeling that the textbook definition was safest. “It comes from our bodies and can be ordered and stored in certain talismans and artifacts, especially crystalline structures, although like simple energy, it’s naturally present to some degree everywhere, in everything.”

Star Swirl grunted. “That’s an excellent answer, lad, but not the one that I’m looking for. Magic comes from inside us, and it pours down upon us from the sun and the moon and the stars. It exists everywhere,” Star Swirl pointed at one of his many strange devices, a glass jar in the shape of a bell, “even in the absence of ponies or air or light itself. It follows rules, but it resists quantification. The ancient philosophers seemed to believe that magic had a will of its own, that the magic of the soul loved the pegasi and lifted them up on wide-stretched wings, that the magic of the body loved the earth ponies and granted them its ripe fruit and great strength, and that the magic of the mind loved unicorns and granted them the power to alter the world around them with their thoughts.”

Star Swirl turned and looked down at the little changeling. “Of course, now we believe that magic is just a tool – but it’s a tool that fits the hoof of the wielder. Some ponies – some creatures, sapient and not – attract certain forms of magic that stores itself in their bodies and can be called upon at will. A few creatures, such as myself, attract almost all forms of magic equally, and can easily call upon a wide range of abilities.”

The old wizard paused for a moment, seemingly trying to think of how to continue. “Lad, do you know how you asked me about black magic before?”

“Yeah,” Stasis replied, his confusion being pushed away by a rising tide of interest.

“And do you remember how I told you that there’s no such thing?”

“Yeah,” Stasis replied again, listening intently.

Star Swirl stroked his beard. “Well, that’s true…up to a point. I don’t know of any inherently evil magic, or if it’s even possible for magic to be good or evil…but, while I don’t buy into most of the namby-pamby mumbo-jumbo about magic that armchair-philosophers will tell you, it is true that magic responds to the heart.”

Stasis frowned. “The heart?” That would certainly explain some of the stories he’d read about heart-hungering cannibals, he supposed.

“Well…no, not literally,” Star Swirl replied. “The heart is a muscle that beats until it doesn’t anymore, and then you’re dead. What I actually mean is the mind and – if we really want to get theoretical – the aura of magic that forms the thaumaturgical underpinnings for your physical body. But that’s a lecture for another time. For now, we’ll just call it your heart.”

“I’m confused,” Stasis admitted.

Star Swirl sighed. “Just bear with me for a moment, lad. My point is, like attracts like. If you’re black-hearted and black-minded, you might find the magics you’re attracted to and good at tend to be pretty well-suited to black deeds as well. Like I said, magic sort of has a mind of its own at times, even if that mind looks a lot like yours. Are you following me so far?”

“We utilize the magic within our bodies, and that magic can change over time depending on our own thoughts and actions?” Stasis replied.

“Eh…right,” Star Swirl confirmed. “That’s actually exactly what I’m trying to say.”

“I still don’t understand why we’re doing this now,” Stasis questioned. “Shouldn’t we save the magic lessons until after dinner?”

“You know how it goes, lad. I’ll get around to my point when I get around to it,” said Star Swirl. “Now…do you know what the most powerful thing in the world is?”

“Celestia?” Stasis answered immediately.

“No, though that’s pretty close. Try again.”

“The sun?” Stasis guessed, naming what he imagined to be the source of Celestia’s power.

Star Swirl snorted. “I don’t know if that counts as being ‘in’ the world, and even if it did, you’d probably still be wrong. Try again.”

Stasis pondered. The only being he knew of who was more powerful than Celestia was Discord himself. They said that Discord could turn the day dark and the night bright; that he ruled over war and strife and madness and fed on them like a pig at the trough; that order was his finger bowl and sanity, his whipping boy. But even that ancient spirit, that force against nature and reason, had been defeated by –

“The Elements of Harmony?” he guessed once more.

Star Swirl nodded. “That’s right. The Elements of Harmony, which appeared at the same time as the royal pony sisters to defeat the magics of chaos and set the world right again. Greater wizards than I have studied those artifacts in the past, and do you know what they found?”

“Greater wizards than you?” Stasis asked quizzically.

“Eh…I was trying to be polite,” Star Swirl recanted. “Anyway, do you know what they found?”

“Crystals?” Stasis guessed. Though he didn’t understand all the theory yet, it was clear that crystals filtered and stored and manipulated magic better than virtually any other inanimate material known to ponykind.

“They are crystals, to an extent, although they’re much more than that,” Star Swirl continued, his hoary voice taking on the passionate tones it so often did when he spoke of magic. “But what I want you to remember is this: like all crystals, the Elements respond to certain types of magic, to certain ‘frequencies’ you could say, while ignoring others. And do you know what frequencies, what types of magic that the Elements respond to?”

“Harmonious ones?” Stasis answered. He really felt like he couldn’t go wrong with that answer.

“They respond to the types of magic, or the auras, of creatures with good hearts, good motives, and good intentions. They bond with their chosen bearers, and just as the Elements are bonded with each other, they respond to the bonds that their bearers form as well. The princesses love each other and want the best for Equestria and the entire world; it’s this eternal bond and mission that activate and channel the Elements that protect us all from even the gravest threats. Do you see, lad?” the old pony asked, looking at Stasis intently.

“Uh…see what?”

“You’re always trying to be the strongest and the best at whatever you set your mind too,” Star Swirl continued. “And so I’m telling you the culmination of what I’ve learned over a lifetime of studying and practicing magic, something that amazes me even now: the most powerful force in our universe, the same one that sets our lives in order, that makes us strong, is friendship. It seems like a ninny thing to say, but it’s the truth.”

“You’re saying that if I want to be the best…I should wield the Elements of Harmony!” Stasis said, excited. That power!

“Eh…no,” Star Swirl said. “Only the princesses can wield the Elements. But they can do so because they hold the virtues of the Elements close to their hearts: honesty, generosity, kindness, laughter, loyalty, and the magic of friendship itself. This is what makes them strong.”

“I thought they were strong because they were gods,” Stasis mused.

“I told you not to call them that, lad,” Star Swirl chided gently. “But there’s more to being strong than just power.”

“Oh.” Stasis considered that for a moment. “Well, I guess I just want to be powerful, then.”

Star Swirl rubbed at his temples for a moment. “I reckon I’m not very good at this. Look, lad, forget the magic analogy for a moment. What I’m trying to say is, I don’t want you to make the same mistakes that I have. I don’t want you getting so sidetracked with your own projects that you ignore your relationships with others.”

“I don’t have ‘projects’,” Stasis countered glumly. “Not like you.”

Star Swirl cocked an eyebrow. “Oh? And what were you doing yesterday while Major was supposedly running around spreading lies about Pierce? Why weren’t you there with Goldie when she was standing up for her friend?”

“Uh….”

“’Uh…’ is right,” Star Swirl said sternly. “Major needs you right now, and what are you doing? Moping about the house all day?”

“But what am I supposed to do!” Stasis countered. “I’m not the one that doesn’t believe him! I’m not the one that grounded him! Why don’t you go give Major’s dad this speech instead? He’s the one that’s making Major miserable, not me!”

“You pick up on magical theory faster than half the college kids I used to teach,” Star Swirl scorned, “and now you try to sell me stupid crap like that? Who are you lying to, lad: me, or you?”

“I don’t know what you expect me to do…” Stasis grumbled, looking away.

“I think you know exactly what you need to do,” Star Swirl rumbled. “If you didn’t, you’d be out there scheming and figuring it out instead of hiding in here all afternoon. You’re scared.”

Stasis cringed back from the wizard’s angry countenance, and then glared. “I am not scared. You don’t even know how brave I am!”

“You are scared,” Star Swirl countered. “And if you’re not brave enough to overcome your fear, then it’s a mirror you should be glaring at, not me. I want you to brave. I want you to be strong. That’s what I’ve been trying to explain to you this whole time: how to be strong, in magic and character. Will you be a foolish, frightened little pony, or will you go out there and find some way to help the one other pony in this town who likes you and wants to be your friend?”

“I already tried to rescue him!” Stasis protested. “Who else would have done that? Nopony could have rescued him but me! It’s not my fault he didn’t want to be rescued!”

“Then find another way,” Star Swirl said, more gently now. “Put that brain of yours to use and find out what really happened, and then explain it to Major’s family and get him out of trouble. There’s not a bit of doubt in me that you could do that if you wanted to, lad. Do you want to?”

“Yeah, but….”

“Then do it. Do it because you want to be strong. Or do it because you love Major and want to help him. Heck, do it because I told you to. I don’t care, as long as you do it. Major needs to be able to trust that you’ll be there for him when he needs it, and you need to be able to trust yourself that you’ll take care of the ponies that are close to you.”

“I can trust myself,” Stasis muttered angrily. “I can do anything that I want to do….”

“Then I hope that you decide to save your friend, lad,” Star Swirl said. “You may not be an adult yet, but you’re no foal either. Whether you do the right thing or not – the wise thing or not – it has to be your choice.” The old wizard looked at him silently for a few moments longer, before turning and beginning to write again, as if the conversation had never taken place.

Stasis almost said something else…but then he snorted, and went back the way he came, outside. He felt angry. Angry that his stupid plan to frame Pierce had blown up in his face like this, angry that his plan to save Major had neither resolved the situation nor made him feel any better about it; and now angry that Star Swirl was throwing all this at his hooves. What did Star Swirl know, anyway? He practically said himself that he never bothered with friends or companions or anything like that; how did he know what Stasis should do?

Stasis never signed up for this. He was just here for the magic, the money, and the memory. When he decided to stay in Trottingham, he hadn’t done it with the expectation that he’d by hounded by zealots and spanked by old geezers every other day. He just wanted to live a normal, simple pony childhood, but with the ability to do anything he wanted and not have the consequences shoved in his face all the time.

Stasis really, really wished that he had somepony to complain to right now. Somepony who would listen to his gripes and groans and actually feel sorry for him. Somepony who would offer to play a game or buy him a milkshake to take his mind off of things. Somepony orange.

Stasis put his face in his hooves, and groaned. Major wanted him to do the right thing. Star Swirl wanted him to do the right thing. Even his stupid, stupid conscience, which he hated and had almost managed to forget about, was bugging him about just leaving Major to his fate. Stasis didn’t even like the fact that he had a conscience, much less that it was interfering in his affairs.

He needed to save Major. It was like Star Swirl said; he was smart, and strong, and brave. He was an atheling; he could do anything. Nopony could take Major away from him, not even Major’s dad.

Stasis got up, and began to run towards Major’s house once more. He moved quickly, trying to turn his mind away from the punishment that was coming his way. From the pain. From the righteous stinging of paddle on flesh, the just fury on Major’s dad’s face as he realized the betrayal, as he raised his hoof to deliver judgment on Stasis’ iniquitous hiney –

“It’s not working!” Stasis yelled, trying to gallop faster. His heart beat fast in his chest; not just from exertion, but from fear. His breath came even shorter than it should, and his legs tried to turn, to run the other way. His brain urged him to reconsider, to wait and think of another way.

“Traitors!” Stasis yelled again, hooves clopping over stones as he demanded his body go faster, faster. The decision had been made! There was no turning back now!

Before even his will crumbled and ran, he dashed the last few paces and pounded on the door, breathless, his small hoof banging furiously as he tried not to think of how afraid he was. It still wasn’t working!

The door opened. Before him stood a stallion, a rather pale shade of grey similar to Star Swirl’s, with a small pair of round glasses perched on his muzzle. The stallion looked down at Stasis and blinked.

“Hello?”

“I did it!” Stasis cried. “Major never could have concocted so convoluted and corrupt a plan! You should have known it was me all along, you fools!...wait, are you Major’s dad?”

It was a little-known secret in Trottingham that Stasis had never, in fact, actually met Major’s dad. This was achieved through a combination of clever planning, artful excuses, and at times, outright flight. Perhaps the only creature Stasis feared more than his own parents, more than Celestia herself, was Major’s dad. He had imagined a creature of rippling muscle and strong jaw, a sage ripe with wisdom and virtue who would strike Stasis down where he stood, crushing the wicked little changeling under the weight of his proverbs before carving adages upon his cold, hard grave.

Instead, Stasis got this.

“I am,” Major’s dad replied, his soft voice a sharp contrast to Star Swirl’s own. “You’re Major’s friend Stasis, aren’t you? I’m not surprised that you don’t recognize me. Most ponies expect me to be orange for some reason.”

Stasis blinked.

“Would you like to come inside and discuss what you were saying?” Major’s dad asked kindly, stepping aside. “There are some leftover doughnuts from lunch, if you’re interested.”

“Oooookaaaaaay…” Stasis said, stepping inside slowly. It might have been a trap, but having come this far, there was no way he could leave without having secured Major’s freedom.

“I’ve been waiting for this for a long time, Stasis,” Major’s dad said as he shut the door behind them and moved towards the kitchen.

That sounded ominous. It was the kind of thing that Stasis had always expected his vengeance-seeking adversaries to say once Stasis was old enough to have done things worth avenging.

Major’s dad set a tray of doughnuts on the table and then gestured for Stasis to take a seat. Once they were both situated across from each other, he smiled.

“Now, Major’s told me a lot about you, and I’d like the chance to talk sometime and get to know you better. But it seems like you wanted to tell me something?”

“No,” Stasis corrected. “I really, really don’t want to tell you anything.”

Major’s dad laughed. “Fair enough. But you are going to tell me, aren’t you? You worked up quite a sweat getting here, after all.”

Stasis wiped his forehead self-consciously. “Well…um….”

“Take your time,” Major’s dad said softly. “You’re here, and that’s what matters.”

Stasis wasn’t sure what the stallion meant by that, but he marched on. “Major didn’t have anything to do with all those lies about Pierce,” he said quickly, forcing it out. “He was playing with Goldie the whole time.”

Major’s dad’s smile faded, and he looked sad. “There are ponies all over Trottingham who swore to me that they saw my son come into their stores and tell them impossible stories about Pierce. One I might dismiss, or even two. But do you expect me to believe that every single one of those ponies was mistaken?”

“I…tricked them,” Stasis confessed.

Major’s dad leaned over the table, hooves under his chin. “I know that you love my son, Stasis – as do I. And if you know what happened – if you talked Major into doing this – then I need to know. Please don’t –“

“Magic,” Stasis blurted.

Major’s dad blinked. “Excuse me?”

“I already told Major what I did, and made him promise not to tell,” Stasis continued. “I stole some of Star Swirl’s illusion magic and tried to use it to frame Pierce because I hate him, but I accidentally ended up framing Major instead. I never meant for him to get into trouble!

As Stasis finished his confession, he realized something that hadn’t even crossed his mind: what if Major’s dad didn’t let them play together anymore? What if he let Major go, but then forbid them from ever seeing each other again? Then this would all be for naught!

Major’s dad leaned back, watching Stasis carefully, quietly. After a few moments, he said, “You can show me this spell? The one that makes you look like Major?”

Stasis hesitated. Major’s dad probably had no idea what a changeling changing masques looked like, but if he described it to anypony knowledgeable – say, Star Swirl – it would be unmistakable.

“…No?” he finally answered. “It takes a long time to set up, so I can’t do it here.” Major’s dad was an earth pony, so with any luck he wouldn’t know the first thing about illusion spells.

“Can Star Swirl confirm it, then? That you used magic?” Major’s dad asked.

“…I guess? Look, you don’t really believe that Major had anything to do with this, do you?” Stasis pleaded. “Major’s incorruptible! I should know! And he had nothing to do with this, I swear!”

Major’s dad continued to watch him, his expression stern.

“I thought that ponies would believe him if he spread lies about Pierce, but I knew he would never purposively help me do something wicked, so I had to pretend to be him instead,” Stasis continued desperately. “Major’s innocent! If you’re going to lock somepony up in Major’s room, it should be me!”

After a few moments of silence, Major’s dad’s eyes softened, and he stood up and walked quickly around the table, forcing Stasis to jerk back in fear. The pony swept him in up in his forelegs, crushing the little changeling in a far-stronger bear-hug than would be expected from such a modestly-proportioned stallion. Stasis stared over the pony’s shoulder in shock before being set down just as quickly as he’d been picked up.

Major’s dad smiled softly down at him, looking far happier than most ponies did when they were informed of Stasis’ betrayals and misdeeds.

“Thank you, Stasis,” he said, before promptly turning about and leaving the room.

Stasis stood alone by the table as a minute passed quietly, then two. Nothing happened.

“Whatever,” he finally decided. He pulled the doughnuts over with his magic and began to gorge himself.

Sometime after he became full but before he threw up, Major’s dad returned, looking eminently pleased. He smiled at Stasis, either taking no notice of the plundered doughnut tray or else not caring as he said, “Major’s speaking with his mother. I want to thank you again for telling me the truth, Stasis. It must have taken a lot of courage.”

“Anytime,” Stasis replied, stuffing another doughnut into his mouth.

“There’s still one more thing you and I need to take care of, Stasis. Will you come with me to see Star Swirl now?”

Stasis choked. He had rather hoped that the apparently-joyous reunification of Major’s family would have made everypony forget about Star Swirl entirely. Stasis certainly wanted to forget about Star Swirl.

Painfully swallowing the rest of his unmasticated pastry, he said, “It’s okay. I know the way. You should just stay here with Major and try to put this whole affair behind you.”

Major’s dad laughed. “Well, as appealing as that sounds, Stasis, I’m afraid that I really do need to talk to your father about this. And besides, I know that Trottingham is a good, safe city, but I still don’t like the idea of children your age running around by yourselves. If you’d let me walk you home, I would greatly appreciate it.”

“…Oh. Okay.” That was it, then. Stasis’s doom would come hairy and a-jingling.

Major’s dad moved to the front door and held it open, letting Stasis go first. Pleased that his executioner was such an agreeable fellow, Stasis walked outside, and together they began to make their way back to Star Swirl’s house.

As they walked, Stasis considered the long path ahead of him. The only thing standing between him and destruction. A path which, he knew from experience, could pass quite quickly if one wasn’t careful.

The little changeling may not have known any bona fide time spells like Star Swirl, but he had his ways. First he began meditating on his own ennui, concentrating on the tedium and familiarity of the ponies and their pony town until his boredom seemed to grow within him, a pearl of disinterest and silent suffering that matured and swelled until he was certain that the passers-by were like to crack him open and steal his precious treasure.

Still, hooves clopped on stone as time seemed to move forward unperturbed. If anything, Stasis’ efforts had merely wasted much of what was left between him and his judgment.

But the little changeling wasn’t beaten yet. Cleverly, he began constructing a tall pendulum device in his mind, the granddaddy of grandfather clocks with which he would master time itself.

Tick went the mighty imaginary clock. Tock. Tick. Tock. His mind’s eye watched the measuring and constraint of time with rapturous attention, every minute stripped apart, its scores and scores of seconds laid bare before him. Stasis would not yield until each and every one of these seconds had lived and died, its existence passed off into the aether.

Tick (one), tock (two), tick (three), tock (four), tick (five), tock (six), tick (seven), tock (eight), tick (nine), tock (ten), tick (eleven), tock (twelve), tick (thirteen), tock (fourteen)…tick (fifteen)…tock (sixteen)...tick (seventeen)…tock (eighteen)….

Stasis’s head jerked up. Wait, what happened? What was the count?

Panicked, Stasis moved to his backup plan. The one method he knew for sure could turn minutes into hours, hours into day, days into lifetimes.

With masochistic intensity he focused on his end. What would it be? Would Star Swirl transmogrify him into some useless pony pet, a chirping canary or perhaps a barking dog, to be forcibly bathed and brushed, his every motion and behavior tabulated and controlled while vile pony food was shoved down his throat?

…That didn’t sound so different from how things were right now, actually. Star Swirl’s huge, wrinkly brain would undoubtedly think of fates far more insidious for the poor little changeling.

What, then? Would he be eternally banished to his room, as Major was? Would he be cut off from all pony contact, left to his own devices with nothing but his vast collection of library books and forbidden contraband to entertain him?

…That didn’t sound too horrible, either. At least until Stasis felt the urge to commit wickedry; then there would be no targets available other than himself. That could be bad.

But what of painting? Stasis hated painting. It involved every bit as much effort as mowing, but with none of the familiar joys of destruction and dominance, and Star Swirl always yelled at him when he tried to sniff the paint.

Would he have to paint the living room? Hours. The entire house, inside and out? Days, weeks. What if Star Swirl decided that Stasis should paint the decrepit portions of the city as some kind of penal community service?

Stasis felt ill. Even now, he could see the old house approaching, its walls as peeled and faded as when he had seen them the first time. Then, it had been his salvation; now, it would be his damnation, its double-doors opening wide to consume him.

Well, at least his temporal battles had left him tired, beaten, and more anxious than ever. Star Swirl would be happy, in any case.

Sighing, Stasis followed Major’s dad the rest of the way up to the house. It was all in future-Stasis’ hooves now.

The stallion’s knocks rang out across the yard, the gongs of Stasis’ despair. As the seconds turned into a minute and more, Stasis felt some small hope spring up within him, that perhaps Star Swirl had gone into town for the evening, or had simply chosen not to answer the door that day, as he was wont to do.

Star Swirl opened the door. He looked back and forth between pony and faux-pony, his brow furrowed.

“Eh?”

“Good to see you, Mr. Swirl,” said Major’s dad with a slight smile. “I believe we know each other. I work as a clerk down at town hall. Vital records?”

Star Swirl frowned. “Aye, I remember you. Now, I’m no expert on every dot and tittle of Trottingham’s bylaws, but showing up at my house with my lad in tow is pretty irregular, Mr. Pusher. If you’re having issues with Stasis’ documentation, I think you’d best speak with Town Clerk Retentive. He’ll set you straight.”

Major’s dad’s smile faded, and he shook his head quickly. “No, no, Mr. Swirl, I’m not here in a professional capacity at all. It’s about an issue with your son, and mine.”

“Your so-“ Star Swirl’s eyes widened. “Oh! That’s right. You’re Major’s pa, aren’t you?”

Major’s dad smiled again. “That’s right. It seems our boys have become quite the pair.”

“Joined at the hip,” Star Swirl agreed. “But I’m guessing you didn’t come all the way down here to shoot the breeze with an old wizard. What’s the lad done this time? Can we talk it out, or am I going to have to break out the lad’s checkbook?”

Stasis mumbled sullenly at that. He already owed Star Swirl several years’ worth of allowance on stuff like this.

“Oh no, that’s quite alright,” Major’s dad said amiably. “In fact, your son has been quite honest and helpful.”

Star Swirl squinted at Stasis skeptically, and then at Major’s dad even more so. “Who?”

“Stasis,” Major’s dad said, gesturing towards the little changeling/pony beside him.

“Who?”

“Stasis,” Major’s dad repeated, slower and louder. “Your son?”

Stasis considered pointing out that he was not, in fact, Star Swirl’s son. He’d found that adult ponies could sometimes forget about you if you were small and quiet enough, however.

“I’m not daft,” Star Swirl gruffed. “Why don’t you just tell me what’s going on?”

Stasis tuned out Major’s dad’s explanation, instead focusing on Star Swirl’s facial expressions and emotions, trying to discern the extent of the old wizard’s pique. Was it at stern-talking-to levels? Stasis hated those, but he would survive. Corporal-punishment levels? Stasis really wished that ponies wore pants. Spontaneous-flushing-of-the-face-and-loss-of-vocal-control levels? Stasis would make a break for it.

“He said that he learned this magic from you, Mr. Swirl,” Major’s dad said evenly, bringing Stasis’ attention back to the conversation. The little changeling glanced back and forth between the two ponies nervously.

Star Swirl grunted, and gave Stasis a dangerous look. “He said that, did he?”

“Yes, Mr. Swirl.”

Star Swirl grunted again, and turned his gaze back to Major’s dad. “Well, I reckon it’s partially my fault then, leaving books on thaumaturgy lying around like that. It’s not as easy as you might think, you know, trying to teach him all about magic without letting him learn anything he can actually use.”

“Very difficult,” Stasis agreed eagerly, glad that Star Swirl had decided on his own explanation. “You can’t actually set anything on fire with light magic, but you can blind ponies sometimes if they’re not careful. Also, if you know spells for suppressing odors and changing colors, and you have a glass of moldy cow milk –“

“Please stop talking, lad,” Star Swirl requested.

“I have the greatest respect for your abilities as a magician, Mr. Swirl, but maybe it’s unwise to leave grimoires out where young prodigies can read them unsupervised?” Major’s dad continued, his tone carrying just the slightest hint of admonishment.

“Aye, aye, I hear you,” Star Swirl grumbled. “Kind of hard to do when you’re an archmage with your own bloody library….”

Major’s dad smiled wider – perhaps the most Majorly thing about him was his smile, Stasis thought – and gave the little changeling an affectionate pat on the back before saying, “When Stasis first became friends with Major, I must admit, I was a bit nervous. If it weren’t for your reputation, Mr. Swirl, I think I would have told my son to spend time with other ponies instead. But seeing today how your boy came to me and confessed everything and is willing now to take his punishment like a proper stallion should, I have to say, I am more impressed by what you’ve done here than by any of the talk of spells and academics, or even what you’ve done for us on the city council. You have my respect, Mr. Swirl.”

“Eh…thanks?” Star Swirl said, looking flustered.

“Not many ponies would take in an orphan as you’ve done, Mr. Swirl, and certainly not at your age,” Major’s dad continued. “It makes my wife and I very happy that our son can be such good friends with yours.”

“Alright, alright,” Star Swirl grumbled, tilting his hat a little lower over his face and filling the air with tinkling. “No need to keep going on about it.”

Major’s dad laughed. “Fair enough. One last thing, though: do go easy on the colt, won’t you, Mr. Swirl? He’s such a little fellow, I find it hard to believe he’s as big a troublemaker as they say.”

“Very little,” Stasis agreed.

Star Swirl grunted. “This is your first time meeting Stasis, eh? Well, don’t you worry, Mr. Pusher. No matter what I do, I can’t mess him up any more than he already is. Relieves a lot of the stress of parenting, I think.”

Major’s dad laughed again, which Stasis found vaguely insulting. “Well, I’ll leave you to it, then. Have a wonderful evening, Mr. Swirl, Stasis.” Giving a nod to each of them, Major’s dad turned around and headed for the gate.

“Hold on a second, there,” Star Swirl said quickly.

“I’m sorry?” Major’s dad said, looking over his shoulder.

“You and the wife are more than welcome to come to the party, you know. Stasis’ party, I mean,” he added quickly. “His cute-ceanara. I reckon Major will be there, and I wanted you to know that parents are fine to come, too.”

Major’s dad smiled. “If our schedules work out, I’m sure that we’d be happy to,” he replied. “It’s all Major’s been talking about.”

“Well…off with you, then,” Star Swirl gruffed, waving his hoof at the other stallion. “Wouldn’t want you to miss dinner.”

Nodding again, Major’s dad went out by the front gate.

“Star Swirl the Bearded, Professor Emeritus and Lunar Knight, inviting ponies to children’s parties,” Star Swirl muttered as he turned and went back inside the house. “Look like a darned fool….”

Stasis remained outside. He considered going out to eat tonight; Star Swirl was probably tired from being so old, and would appreciate only having to fix dinner for one.

“Get your hiney in here, lad,” came a gruff shout.

Sighing, Stasis followed the elderly wizard inside, shutting the door closed behind him.

Star Swirl stood within, his expression stern. Even slightly hunched as he was, he towered over the little changeling. Stasis turned his gaze down to his hooves, and waited in silence.

After a minute had passed, the old pony sighed and asked, “Did you really?”

“I’m sorry,” Stasis answered quickly, the apology coming far easier than normal to his lips, probably since he actually was kind of sorry this time. Also, terrified.

“I know I’m only supposed to use my magic for the good and betterment of ponykind –“

“Not that,” Star Swirl dismissed. “I may be disappointed when you abuse your gifts for personal gain, but it certainly doesn’t surprise me. What I mean is, did you really clean up your own mess this time? Nopony had to beat you or offer you money?”

Stasis thought about that for a moment. “Well, if you wanted to give me money, I guess that would be alright –“

There was a knock at the door.

Star Swirl looked towards it and frowned. “No good can come out of visitors this late in the day. You know what to do, right, lad?”

Stasis nodded, glad for the interruption. “No solicitors.”

Going to the door, Stasis opened it, fully expecting the thrill of running off unloved salesponies and petitioners.

“Stasis!” Major cried, tackling Stasis to the ground.

“I’m going to go get a drink of water,” Star Swirl said. “We’ll finish this conversation in a bit.”

“Major! Major, get off of me!” demanded Stasis, who did not appreciate having the much larger colt practically sitting on top of him.

“Sorry, Stasis!” Major said cheerfully, helping Stasis back to his hooves. “I was kind of disappointed that I didn’t get to see you almost at all today, so Mom said that I could have dinner at your house, if it’s okay with Mr. Swirl.”

“Aye, whatever,” came a gruff from the kitchen.

“Hey, Stasis?” Major asked, suddenly more subdued.

Stasis brushed himself off. “What?”

“I know that you don’t like to say that you’re my friend, but I just want you to know that you’re my best friend in the whole world,” Major said simply. “I’ve had lots of friends before, but I’ve never been as good a friend with any of them as I am with you.”

“But…I got you in trouble,” Stasis protested.

“You got me out of trouble, too,” Major replied.

“But…I haven’t always been as nice to you as I could have been,” protested Stasis, who would have considered that a point of pride with almost any other pony.

“You’re my friend, so it’s okay,” Major countered. “I forgive you.”

Stasis looked into Major’s smiling, earnest, and orange, unfanged, unhorned, and ungrey face, and looked away.

It was not a changeling’s face. It was a pony’s face. Attached to a pony body. Commanded by a pony mind, with pony desires and inclinations and ideas. There was nothing changeling-esque about it at all.

‘Don’t play with your food,’ was the mantra of his family. Spoken in a jocular tone, though they weren’t joking. Only Vertex, otherwise as quiet and solitary as Mother, dared to speak openly on the matter, to preach to anyling that would listen.

‘Familiarity breeds comfort,’ he had told Stasis once. ‘Comfort, affection. It is the same with trinkets and sleeping holes as it is with ponies. Do not let a trinket make you forget what you are.’

Stasis hadn’t forgotten. He wasn’t some stupid quisling, weak and frail and desperate, who would come to envy his hosts their place in the world, who would seek to live the lie. Vertex had warned that quislings were to be pitied, not hated. They had thrown away everything they had for an empty dream, here one moment, gone the next. They flew after rainbows. They had not the strength of mind to see through their own illusions, or the strength of will to break free of them. They were dragons lying amongst salamanders; gryphons roosting with eagles; minotaurs running after cattle. They were broken, their twisted desires hurting themselves and their true family who loved them, and it was for this reason that they should be feared. Noling should envy them, or admire them, or wish to be them.

Stasis shuddered. He wasn’t a quisling. He was a changeling’s changeling. He loved his fangs, and his wings, and his holes. He wasn’t ashamed of any of those things. Changelings were the height of creation, even greater than dragons. And he was a prince, a godsblood, an atheling, the height of his kind. And of all the athelings, he had to be one of the greatest, he was sure.

He loved being a changeling, but he kind of liked Major too. In fact, he was quite certain he liked Major. He had just thrown himself into the path of Star Swirl’s wrath for Major, and if Stasis knew anything about himself, it was that he wouldn’t do that for somepony he didn’t like.

But was he Major’s friend? He didn’t really like the idea that he even needed friends; princes were strong and singular, watching over their families and answering to noling but themselves. Like Father.

Moreover, Major was a pony, which was a huge strike against anyone. But as far as ponies went, Major was about as good as it got. He wasn’t strong, and he wasn’t clever, and he ate vegetables all day and liked it. But he was also nicer to Stasis than anyone else, and was always there for him, and forgave Stasis even when he hurt him. He also shared his sweets with the little changeling, which was a big plus.

Stasis wasn’t pathetic, like a quisling. He was powerful. He was an atheling, and if he decided to be friends with a foolish, fluttering butterfly, who was an underling to tell him no? He had already decided to stay with the ponies for a while, and he’d learned more than he ever could have back in the forest. Who were the other changelings to tell him what he could and could not do?

Stasis wasn’t a quisling. He was a rebel.

“Major?” he called.

“Yeah?”

Stasis looked about the room carefully, making sure that they were alone. Quietly, he asked, “Major, if I did want to be your friend…what would that entail?”

Major blinked. “Huh?”

“I mean, what would we need to do? Wouldn’t we need a knife or something?”

“…Huh?”

Stasis rolled his eyes. “Look, don’t we need to cut our fetlocks and commingle the blood or something? I thought that was part of the process.”

Major’s brow furrowed, and he looked down at the floor. “Well, I’m not sure, Stasis…I never had to do that when I became friends with anypony else before….”

“It’s okay. I guess we can skip that part,” conceded Stasis, who was actually a little concerned that his blood might poison Major. “What’s next?”

Major rubbed the back of his neck. “Uh….”

“Don’t you know how to become friends at all?” Stasis chided. “I thought you were supposed to be the expert at this!”

“I’m sorry, Stasis,” Major apologized. “All I ever did was ask a pony if they wanted to be friends, and if they said yes, then we were. Sometimes I forgot to ask first, though.”

Stasis scowled. “What? But this is important! Ponies don’t get married just by asking, do they? There’s a big ceremony and everything! Words are cheap, Major!”

Major tapped his chin thoughtfully. “Well…uh…how about you give me a hug, then?”

“What! No! That’s stupid!” Stasis spat. “Just because I’m your friend doesn’t mean that I have to hug you…does it?”

“You don’t like to hug, so if you hug me, then it must mean that you’re really my friend,” Major reasoned. “And this way, we don’t have to cut ourselves with anything sharp.”

Stasis could see the logic in this plan. Glancing back towards the kitchen and seeing no prying eyes, he carefully inched forward, slowly invading Major’s personal space.

When it came time for the act itself, he hesitated, his resolve wavering. But he remembered the greatest thing that separated him from the pitiful quislings – he was strong – and he lunged forward, wrapping his forehooves around Major’s torso. Major returned the gesture.

“Ha ha! I did it!” Stasis cheered. “Don’t tell Star Swirl, though.”

“Great job, Stasis!” Major congratulated.

“In fact, don’t tell Star Swirl about any of this, okay? He’s always badgering me to go out and make friends instead of enemies, and I don’t want him to know that I actually went and did it. I don’t want to encourage him.”

“Okay, Stasis, but maybe you could let go now?” Major asked. “Hugs don’t usually last this long. It’s kind of weird.”

“Oh. Sorry.” Stasis quickly disentangled himself from the other ungulate. “I’m not very experienced with this sort of thing.”

“What sort of thing?” asked Star Swirl, who had appeared suddenly beside them, though whether by magic or some geezerly subterfuge, Stasis knew not.

“Nothing!” Stasis answered quickly, before Major could answer honestly. “I’m not very experienced at nothing!”

“Eh?” Star Swirl shook his head. “Actually, never mind. Do you know what time it is, lad?”

“Dinnertime?” Stasis hoped.

“Sentencing,” Star Swirl growled.

Stasis looked down at the floor.

“Obviously, you and I are going to have to make the rounds tomorrow and tell everypony you tricked the truth, and apologize for what you’ve done,” Star Swirl rumbled.

“Even old Codger?” Stasis whined.

“Especially old Codger,” Star Swirl affirmed. “That’s going to be the first part of your sentence.”

“The first part?” Stasis cried. “How many parts are there?”

“I might toss in a paddlin’ or two if you complain,” Star Swirl gruffed. “You did try to make this right on your own this time, which is the only reason I’m not coming down on you like a hammer. But if you think that confessing and apologizing are the only consequences you’re going to have for doing something like this, then you’d best wake up, lad. That’s not the way it works when you’re an adult, and that’s not the way it’s going to work now, either.”

“But I’m a child!” Stasis protested. “A little one! The law doesn’t work the same for us!”

“Too bad,” Star Swirl snapped. “You abused your magic to spread lies about one pony while framing another, you let your best friend rot in his room for most of the day before you got up the gumption to do the right thing, you blamed me for your own crimes and – worst of all – you’ve trapped me into frogmarching you across half the town tomorrow. I think I know a bit of justice that’ll serve you right.”

“No! Not justice!” Stasis cried.

“Justice!” Star Swirl affirmed. “Stasis, lad, in punishment for your crimes, you are going to organize and put away every single thing in this room in time for the cute-ceanara, by yourself.”

“No!” Stasis wailed.

“Aye!” Star Swirl roared. “You’re going to sweep it, you’re going to mop it, you’re going to polish ‘till I can see my pretty bearded face in it, ya hear?”

“I hate all those things!” Stasis cried. “And look at this room! It’ll take forever!”

“Not to worry, lad,” Star Swirl said, a wicked glint in his eye. “Major and I will still be here for you, in a managerial capacity. We’ll pick up a few dozen steaming-fresh cookies from Strudel’s and dip ‘em in ice-cold, whole-fat milk while we oversee your work. Sound good to you, Major?”

“Yeah!” Major agreed.

“Two managers for one worker? That’s stupid!” Stasis accused.

“We call it ‘bureaucracy.’ It’s the way the world works, lad. Best get used to it!” Star Swirl chortled.

“Can Goldie come manage, too?” asked Major.

“You traitors!” Stasis screeched. “You’re not my friends! You all hate me!”

Star Swirl laughed. “Come on, you two. Let’s fry up some potaters, eh? I’m famished.”

“Potaters are like potatoes, right?” Major asked, following close behind the caped wizard.

“Why, why, why didn’t I frame Pierce instead?” Stasis muttered, trudging along behind them.

Love Maestro

There they were. Walking along so blithely, so feckless, so fey. Their dull mutterings and cries carried through the still morning air, a harsh counter to the silence of these tamed wastes.

He slithered through the grass, every blade parting as before the wind, every step a whisper, a warning.

They stopped before the iron teeth, a monster’s maw opening before them, swallowing them whole.

Faster than a centipede he flew, hooves in flashing motion, each striking silent into dirt between stone as he crossed the gap, slipping through as iron jaw clanged close behind him.

They stopped before the mighty redoubt, that castle stretching into the sky, that bulwark against rain, and wind, and root. They called before its gate, seeking shield against their weakness, and nature, and nature’s judgment.

This last distance he savored, tasting it, the sweet flavor of hunger’s defeat. He chose his target, the larger morsel, the greater challenge as satisfying as hunt’s end. Crouching low, blood pulsing warmly, his muscles tensed and yearning. With a primal cry, he leapt.

Screams and shrieks pierced like fangs through flesh.

“Stasis! What are you doing?” cried Goldie.

“Yeah! Why are you biting my back?” asked Major, looking over his shoulder.

“I’m reminding shou of shour place,” Stasis growled, gnawing gently on Major’s tender flesh.

“Something’s wrong with you. You’re crazy. You’re a crazy pony,” said Goldie, keeping what she probably thought was a safe distance.

“Stasis, I really, really think you should stop biting my back. That’s weird,” said Major.

Stasis dropped off his friend and spat the hair out of his mouth. “Do you guys have any idea how long I was hiding across the street, waiting for you to show up? You brought this on yourselves, for making me wait so long.”

Major rubbed his croup tenderly as he said, “I’m sorry, Stasis. We were going to be here on time, but Pierce and Abra were waiting for us along the way, and we talked for a while.”

“Pierce and Abra?” Stasis asked, the euphoria of the hunt fading quickly.

“Yeah. And they wanted to talk about you, Stasis,” said Goldie, glaring at him.

Best to crack this egg before it hatched. “Everything they said was a lie,” Stasis went with.

“Pierce heard about…you know, the thing that happened the other day? With us and the trellis and everything?” Major said, looking uncomfortable.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” said Stasis. “I have no recollection of any such event.”

“It was the time you were a lying liar who lied to everypony in town and made ponies think that Major and me were the liars instead?” clarified Goldie.

“You’ll have to be more specific.”

“I guess Pierce didn’t learn what actually happened until yesterday. He seemed kind of angry.”

“Angry at you, Stasis,” Goldie added.

Stasis scoffed. “Yeah, well, that’s all in the past now. What kind of reasonable pony would still be upset about something like that?”

“I’m still upset about that.”

“What kind of reasonable pony would still be upset about something like that?”

“Pierce and Abra wanted us to stop being your friend, Stasis. They said that you were dangerous,” said Major.

Stasis raised a hoof to his chest in shock. “That’s…that’s ridiculous! I would never harm my friend, or my friend’s friend!”

“You bit Major on the back like two minutes ago!”

“Do you always live in the past, Goldie?”

“I tried to explain that you framing me was just an accident, and that you apologized to everypony and was punished, but they didn’t really seem to listen….” Major fidgeted. “Pierce said that there were better ponies to be friends with, and we deserved better than you.”

“I…I can’t believe –”

“I told him that he should go and mind his own business!” said Goldie, shaking her hoof in righteous fury. “I told him that Major gets to play with whomever he wants to, and Pierce shouldn’t try to break up good friends like that!”

Stasis frowned. “You were the one that was trying to get Major to stop being my friend for the longest time.”

She flicked her tail at him arrogantly. “You should stop living in the past, Stasis. It’s not reasonable.”

Stasis’ eyes narrowed. Goldie….

“Why does Pierce think you’re so bad, anyway?” questioned Goldie. “I mean, you are pretty bad, but he was never this mean to any of the bullies at school. He’s kind of friends with some of them now, I think.”

Major frowned. “Yeah, I don’t know. Maybe we should ask him next time?”

“No!” Stasis said quickly. “No, that’s a stupid, stupid idea. That’s the stupidest idea I’ve ever heard!”

“Why?” asked the ponies.

“Uh…” said the little changeling.

“Do you know why Pierce doesn’t like you very much? You were the one trying to frame him, so it seems like you should know,” said Major.

Stasis scuffed the ground with one hoof. “This is a very, um…complicated topic, Major. It’s very sophisticated. I don’t think layponies could really understand it.”

“Don’t worry, Major. We’ll get the real answer out of Pierce next time we see him,” assured Goldie.

Stasis’ eyes flicked back and forth between the two ponies quickly. This was not good. There was no possible way he could keep both Major and Goldie from talking to both Pierce and Abra, plus any other ponies Pierce might have told about his suspicions.

He realized now: sooner rather than later, ponies were going to learn about Pierce’s paranoias. He dug through his old lessons in his mind quickly, trying to remember what you were supposed to do in a situation like this. How you were supposed to react.

What to do, what to do….

He had it! If there was no way to support a lie, the only thing left was to inoculate with the truth.

Time to be bold.

“Pierce thinks that I’m a changeling,” he announced.

“What?” Major said, blinking. “But…but…what?”

Goldie’s eyes grew wide, and she took a step back.

“Lies,” Stasis snarled. “Vicious lies and slander and libel! How dare he! How dare he make such a baseless accusation!”

“But…but why would he think something like that?” Major asked.

Stasis bared his teeth. “Pierce hates grey ponies. And ponies from faraway places. And jerks. He’s a colorist! A xenophobe! A sanctimonious twit!”

He turned slightly, pointing at various anatomical features. “Look at the color of my fur! And the color of my mane and tail! Just because I look like a changeling, he thinks I am one!”

He glared back and forth between the two ponies. “Can you believe that? Can you believe that he thinks you’d be so stupid as to believe such a thing? I mean, if I really were a changeling, do you think I’d just waltz into Trottingham with the exact same colors as a changeling would have, knock on the door of the nearest powerful pony wizard, and ask for a place to stay? Would I really do that?”

Major frowned, looking contemplative.

“No, Major. The answer’s no.”

“And…and changelings bite ponies!” Goldie said, looking back and forth between the other two.

Stasis glanced at Major’s hindquarters, and quickly away again.

“I…guess that does seem a little crazy,” agreed Major finally.

“A little crazy?” Stasis gasped. “A little crazy, he says! Major, this is the single most craziest thing that you’ve ever heard! I’m your friend. We almost cut our fetlocks together! How can you think that I’m a changeling?”

Major cringed. “I’m sorry, Stasis. You’re right, I shouldn’t think bad things about ponies, especially my friends.”

“And you, Goldie!” Stasis said, turning to her. “You’ve seen yourself how awful and vicious changelings can be. We might have our differences, but you can’t seriously compare me to one of those things!”

Goldie rubbed at her eye with one hoof. “I…I guess not….” She straightened a bit, and glared at him out of her other eye. “B-but I still think that you’re making this up! Pierce is a good pony; why would he think that you’re a changeling just because you’re grey?”

Stasis shook his hoof chidingly at her. “Goldie, you’re as white as the driven snow. What do you know about the plight of dark grey ponies in Equestria today?”

Goldie blinked.

The ponies sat there for a few moments, quiet. Stasis wiped the sweat from his brow; it was feeling hot outside, all of a sudden.

“You know,” Major said slowly, his own brow furrowed, “now that I think about it…why was Abra there, too? I didn’t even know that they knew each other before, and I usually know which ponies know which ponies.”

Goldie wiped her eyes again, and looked at Major. “Well, maybe she’s his fillyfriend? Pierce is old enough to have a fillyfriend, I think.”

Major blinked for a few moments, then shook his head. “No, Goldie, because he already has a fillyfriend. Crimson from high school is his fillyfriend. And Abra doesn’t have a coltfriend, I know that for sure.”

Stasis shrugged. “So? Why couldn’t Pierce get Abra as his second fillyfriend?”

Goldie’s nose scrunched. “Eww! That’s gross, Stasis!”

Stasis looked back and forth between the ponies. “Huh?”

“Colts aren’t supposed to have more than one fillyfriend, Stasis, and fillies shouldn’t have more than one coltfriend.” Major looked over at Goldie and muttered, “Stasis doesn’t know things sometimes.”

Stasis frowned. “I don’t understand. If one fillyfriend is a good thing, then wouldn’t two be twice as good? Isn’t this the kind of thing that they send us to school for years and years to learn about?”

“That’s not how it works, Stasis! Fillies aren’t numbers!” said the first filly.

“When you get to the fifth grade, Goldie, you’ll understand.”

“My dad says that Mom is more mare than he can handle, sometimes,” mused Major. “Maybe that’s why? Maybe there’s only so much mare that you can handle, Stasis.”

Stasis looked Goldie up and down critically for a few moments. “Yeah, I guess. I still don’t know why ponies fawn over each other at all, really. Even two or three times zero is still zero.”

Goldie’s eyes narrowed. “You just said something bad about me, didn’t you?”

“Or maybe it’s that fillies like to feel special?” Major said, tapping his chin. “My dad says that fillies like to feel special, and I bet a fillyfriend wouldn’t feel very special if you also had a whole bunch of others.”

Stasis pondered that for a moment. It sounded a whole lot like jealousy, and jealousy was one of those emotions that Stasis felt like he should be pretty good at.

And it made sense that Pierce would avoid taking Abra as a second fillyfriend; his affection for Crimson gave her an incredible leverage over him. That was the kind of thing that even Chigger could figure out.

So, was there any way that Stasis could use this to his advantage? After all, if Pierce was going to just go out and ‘fall in love’ with somepony, then it behooved Stasis to squeeze his opponent’s weakness for all it was worth.

…Or maybe not. Ponies would do crazy things for love; Stasis remembered hearing that. A crazed Pierce at the head of a gang of recidivist thugs was not something that the little changeling liked to think about.

But Stasis was loath to throw away such a clever idea, now that he’d thought of it. After all, Pierce was both the engine and the bulwark of Stasis’ animosity, but by himself he was fairly harmless, as the frisbee had shown.

And there were other soft-skinned, soft-hearted targets available that were just as critical to Pierce’s plans as Pierce himself.

Stasis eyed his friend as he smiled. “Hey, Major. What do fillies like?”

Major looked back at him and blinked. “Huh?”

“What do fillies like?” he asked once more, sweetly. “I need to know.”

Major turned and looked at Goldie. Stasis turned and looked at Goldie. Goldie looked back at them.

“Well…” she began, “one of my favorite things to do is play nurse.”

Stasis’ smile faded. “What?”

“Play nurse!” she repeated. “I can check your heartbeat, and your breathing, and your reflexes too! I can feed you cough medicine with a spoon, and I can give you a lollipop afterwards if you’re good. If I have a lollipop.”

“You can do that?” Stasis turned to Major. “She can do that?”

She smiled excitedly. “If I have any patients, I can! But….” Her smile faded as she looked down at her hooves. “I haven’t had anypony to play with in a long time….”

“I’ll play with you, Goldie!” Major declared valiantly. “…But do I really have to take cough medicine, though? It’s kind of nasty.”

“I can put sugar in it?” Goldie said, smiling softly.

“Can you treat wounds as well?” Stasis asked, curious. This was a side of Goldie that he’d never seen before. He’d had no idea.

Goldie looked thoughtful. “Well…I’ve sewn up Mr. Top-hat with a needle and thread before, though my…my momma had to help. But all I’ve ever done with real ponies is bandage them up. Do you want me to bandage you up, Stasis?”

“What, like a mummy?” Stasis asked, warming quickly to this idea.

Major frowned. “A mommy? Don’t you have to be a filly to be that?”

Goldie gave him a skeptical look. “Stasis, even if you were a filly, I don’t think that you should be allowed to be a mommy.”

“No, a mummy!” Stasis explained. “I read about it in the Physiologus.”

He raised his forehooves dramatically and in low tones began his tale. “Legends say that thousands of years ago, certain desperate and damned creatures in the Quaggan homeland would sell their very souls to the Ancients in exchange for incredible unholy powers! Soulless and dead, their bodies animated by forces beyond magic and Tartarus itself, they became immortal. Only by having the flesh melted from their bones and their skeletons bound and wrapped and chained inside temples of living magic could they be subdued and the world made safe once more.

“Well…safe for the living, anyway,” Stasis finished, chuckling darkly.

There was silence. Wind rustled lightly through their manes.

“My mom told me some of the things that fillies like the other day,” said Major.

“Really? What things?” asked Goldie.

Stasis grumbled under his breath.

“Well, I know that you like playing nurse Goldie, but my mom said that big girls like things like flowers and chocolates and scented candles,” said Major.

“Oh, yeah. And music and moonlight and kissing, right?” asked Stasis. “I found some books on that in Star Swirl’s room, but then he said that romance novels were trash and hid them away again. I still need to see if I can get some more from the library.” It was almost a pity that he hadn’t come to Trottingham until he was a little bit older, after his wooing lessons.

“I am a big girl…” grumbled Goldie.

“Why do you ask, Stasis? Are you going to do something nice for some filly?” asked Major.

The little changeling cackled. “I have a plan, Major! A brilliant, brilliant plan! Infallible, invincible, absolute, I –…wait. I should probably sleep on this, actually.”

* * *

Stasis looked his friend up and down critically. Major stood there, much as he had the day before, but now his mane, tail, and coat were neatly trimmed and brushed and shining under the morning sun. The little changeling’s nostrils flared as he took in the scents around him; Major had clearly done as he was told and taken a bath, but now Stasis wished he had thought to purchase some cologne. You couldn’t go wrong with cologne.

Major rubbed behind one ear absently, looking slightly uncomfortable. “Is this about that plan you had yesterday, Stasis? The one that you wouldn’t talk to us about?”

“Something like that,” Stasis replied sweetly. “Look, this is actually really simple, Major. I just want you to talk to Abra for me, okay? You need to convince her to put all her grudges and hatred behind her. Forgiveness is the path to peace.”

Major’s smile looked confused. “That’s great, Stasis!...but why can’t you talk to her yourself? Since you’re the one that she needs to forgive, wouldn’t it be better if you apologize to her yourself?”

Stasis shook his head sadly. “No, Major, I’m afraid that won’t work. Abra has allowed her anger issues and vengeful ways to grow too great; she needs somepony she likes and trusts to help her overcome. She needs you, Major.”

Major’s brows knitted. “But you’re going to change too, right? I know you’ve done a better job being a good friend to Goldie and me lately, so I think it would be great if you could be a friend to Abra, too.”

Stasis shifted uncomfortably. “Well, let’s take this one step at a time, alright? Let’s start slow. Abra and I can stop being bitter enemies, and then we’ll see where it goes from there.”

He cleared his throat. He’d had this conversation – this whole morning, in fact – planned out, and now he had to remember his place. “Oh, right. Anyway, Major, I’ve come prepared to make concessions. I’m willing to let Abra read Star Swirl’s books on a regular basis, but only if she agrees to break off her hateful, prejudiced relationship with that bigot Pierce.”

“Did Star Swirl say that Abra could read his books?” asked Major.

Stasis shook his hoof at Major reproachfully. “You let me worry about Star Swirl. You worry about Abra. You let her know: hate, or limitless knowledge and power. She has to choose.”

Major looked past Stasis, towards the door. “Is he busy? Maybe I can just ask him –“

Stasis shook his head. “He’s in town today, doing council stuff. He won’t be back until later.”

“Isn’t he still feeling bad, though? Since the party? Maybe he should take some time off –“

“Star Swirl says that he can rest when he’s dead, and I agree,” agreed Stasis. “He’s a super-powerful wizard. He’s got better things to do than rest. Like pick me up some potaters on the way home.” If Star Swirl forgot again, the little changeling was going to be upset.

Major looked down at Stasis with concern. “Are you going to be okay here by yourself? I mean, I know Star Swirl’s left you home alone before, but he was expecting us to be together today –“

“Major, you don’t even know how mature I am,” Stasis scoffed. “I could probably own my own house and pay my own bills, if I had the money, and if it wasn’t so much work. Anyway, focus! You’ve got a meeting with Abra, remember?”

Major blinked. “Oh, right.” He tapped his chin thoughtfully. “Well, I think that Abra would really like to talk to Star Swirl, too. Can she talk to Star Swirl?”

Stasis sighed. “Look, there’s a lot of room for negotiations here, alright? Like I said: let’s take this one step at a time. And the first step is that way. Into town.” He pointed.

Major took that first baby step, hesitated, and turned back around. Stasis facehoofed.

“But…if you’re going to make up with Abra, then why can’t you do the same thing with Pierce? I know he doesn’t hardly ever smile or laugh, and he doesn’t seem very friendly sometimes, but if you just explain to him that you’re not a changeling –”

“Major,” Stasis interrupted, “have you ever put a timberwolf alpha and an ursa minor together, just to see what happens?”

Major frowned. “Um…I don’t think so, Stasis.”

“Pierce can run away, or he can roll over. But somepony like him could never be my friend.”

“Oh.” Major’s ears drooped. “Well, what if I talked to him instead, and told him that you’re not a changeling –”

“Shh!” Stasis shushed, looking up and down the road. “You don’t want anypony to overhear you, do you? You don’t want to fan the flames of colorism, do you?”

“Oh. Sorry, Stasis,” Major said, looking around nervously.

Stasis walked over and drooped one foreleg over his friend’s withers. “Look, Major, you’re making this a lot harder than it needs to be,” he explained. “I already dropped off a note at Abra’s house letting her know to meet you at the school. All you have to do is go meet her there. And you’d better hurry up, or you’re going to be late! You don’t want to be late to meet Abra, do you?”

Major shook his head. “No…but I thought that school was closed for summer.”

Stasis sighed. “Major, it’s summer school. And I already talked to the teacher in charge, and she said it was fine if you met with Abra in the school building today. Okay? Look, I even got her to sign a note. Behold!” Stasis withdrew a note and dropped it into Major’s hooves with his magic.

Major inspected the note carefully. Very carefully.

“I didn’t forge the signature, Major!” he snapped. “Discord’s tooth…you’ve been listening to Goldie way too much lately. It’s not good for you.”

“But you have lied before, Stasis,” Major said, giving him a stern look. “Remember how much you lied when you pretended to be me?”

Stasis removed his foreleg and rubbed the back of his neck. “Yeah, well, just because I lied before doesn’t mean you shouldn’t trust me now. I’m telling the truth! You can even ask the teacher when you get there.”

“Well…okay,” Major said, tucking the note into one of his saddlebags. “I don’t even mind so much when you trick me, but I don’t want you to trick Abra anymore. She really doesn’t like it.”

“I promise, I won’t trick Abra ever again. Now will you just go? You’re going to be late!”

Still looking reluctant, Major turned and broke into a quick trot, heading towards downtown Trottingham.

Stasis heaved a great sigh. Major never used to be so suspicious. It used to be that you could tell him something without him questioning your every move and motivation. It used to be that he would trust his friends.

Seeing Major pass out of sight, Stasis burst into a gallop, cackling madly as he crossed the street, dashed through the neighbor’s yard, jumped a flower bed, ducked some hanging laundry, and burst onto the adjacent road. He made a hard right towards downtown, hooves cracking against stone as he ran, tongue lolling from his mouth.

A few turns and some wheezing later, he slammed through the school’s double doors. A quick glance showing the surrounding halls to be empty, he slipped into the nearby supplies closet. Lighting his horn, he crouched down, tensing his haunches.

Release, and he vaulted upwards, landing squarely on one of the towers of boxes. It wobbled a bit before steadying, and he began scrambling his way up the nearby boxes and crates, heaving himself up by his forelegs. At the apex, he undid the latch on the ceiling grate with his magic, slipped inside, and closed it behind him.

Grinning widely to himself now, he scurried through the dusty shaft like a spider, heading directly for the lobby. There, he looked down through the slatted vent, and waited.

But not for long: within moments, Major trotted through the double doors, himself looking slightly winded. A minute later, Abra entered at a far more timid pace, glancing about nervously before approaching the orange pony. Stasis noted that her coat also appeared well-brushed and sheeny, and her mane and tail had little black bows in them, somehow giving her an even more chocolaty appearance.

“Hey, Abra! How are you?” said Major, smiling.

“I’m fine, Major. I got your note,” she said, holding it out with her magic.

“Oh, that’s not my note. That’s Stasis’ note!” Major explained.

Stasis sighed and began rubbing his temples.

“Stasis!” Abra whispered harshly. “Is he here?” She took a step backwards and looked around again.

Major shook his head quickly. “No, no, he’s still back at Star Swirl’s house. But it was his idea that we should meet; he has some things he wants you to know, but he thinks it will be better if I tell you instead of him.”

Abra’s posture relaxed slightly, and she sighed. “I don’t know, Major…if you put together a list of all the possible things that I would want to talk about, I think Stasis wouldn’t even be on it.”

“Well…we can talk about other things, too,” Major offered. “It doesn’t have to all be about him.”

Stasis sniffed.

“Well…alright,” Abra said, smiling slightly. “But we don’t have to do it here, do we? Let’s talk somewhere more private.”

“Okay,” said Major, nodding. “How about we see if our old classroom’s empty? Maybe we can even sit in our old desks!”

Abra shrugged. “Alright. Lead the way.”

Stasis snickered to himself. Ponies. What was more predictable?

Skittering through the vents, he shivered slightly as a light, cool breeze swept over and around his flesh. Once situated over the classroom, he watched as the two ponies entered and closed the door quietly behind them.

“Wow! It’s just like we left it. Do you think that we’re the first ones in here all summer?” Major asked, looking around the darkened room in wonder.

“I don’t know…maybe. It looks kind of weird, so empty like this,” said Abra, whose demeanor was far more cautious as she ducked and looked under the desks, as if somepony might be hiding there. (She didn’t think to look in the air vents, for which the little changeling was grateful.)

“Yeah. Hey, do you want me to open up the blinds for you? It’s kind of dark in here,” Major said, moving towards the windows.

“No, that’s fine. I, um…I kind of like it dim like this. It reminds me of the library,” Abra said, smiling slightly. “I know that’s strange….”

“I hang out with Stasis and Star Swirl,” Major said with a grin. “You’d have to be a lot stranger than that to bother me!”

“What’s he like?” Abra asked, sitting down at her desk and rocking it slightly, as if testing it out. “I know you’ve told me before, but I’d like to hear it again.”

Major tapped his chin thoughtfully. “Well, he’s really smart like you, and he likes reading like you do, and he likes dark places a lot too. He’s cranky most of the time, and likes to take naps in the middle of the day, and sometimes what he says is really mysterious and confusing…wait. You meant Stasis, right?”

Abra sighed. “You know he’s just taking advantage of you, Major. There’s only one pony that Stasis cares about, and that pony’s not as kind, or as polite, or as considerate as you are.”

Major sat in the desk next to her. His brow furrowed, he said, “I know you think that, Abra, but Stasis is my friend. He’s helped me with my homework before –”

“For money.”

“– he plays with me at the park and the playground –”

“How many times has he pushed you on the swings, Major?”

“– and when he accidentally got me into trouble the other day, he also got me out of it, even though it meant he had to organize and move and clean the entire living room for hours while me and Goldie and Star Swirl managed.”

Abra stroked one foreleg with her hoof and looked away. “It’s probably just all part of one of those ‘schemes’ of his. He’s probably just trying to gain your confidence….”

Major gave her a sad smile. “Maybe you should give him a chance? I really don’t like it when my friends are mean to each other.”

Abra brushed the hair out of her face with a flick. “Well, I’m not the one who tortures him at every turn! Have you seen how terrible he is to me? He’s been nothing but cruel since the day we met!”

Major frowned. “Well…weren’t you kind of mean to him the day you met? You called him stupid.”

Abra scowled. “Yeah, well, he said that…that….” She paused for a moment, her lips pressed together, and then shook her head. “You know what? That’s not important. Listen….”

Looking around once more, she leaned across the aisle and whispered loudly, “Listen, Major…how nasty he is? I don’t think it’s…natural.”

Major blinked. “Huh?”

“You know how Pierce and I told you yesterday about how dangerous Stasis is?”

Frowning again, Major nodded.

She opened her mouth, paused, and then looked down at the floor between them. “Well, I’ve been talking to Pierce, and…um…well, he’s got some theories, along with some good points to back them up, and...um…I know this is going to sound really crazy, but maybe not so crazy now as it would have before the attack –”

Major tilted his head curiously. “Abra, do you think that Stasis is a changeling?”

Abra sat back down in her seat, hard. “But…but…how did you…?”

“Stasis told me,” said Major with a slight smile.

Abra’s eyes grew wide. “He told you that he was a changeling? When? Major, why didn’t you tell anypony about this before? Changelings are dangerous!”

Major shook his head quickly. “No, no, he told me that you guys thought that he was a changeling. He explained about how Pierce thought that because of his colors, he must be one.”

Abra flicked her hair away again, and blinked. “But…Major, those are very unusual color combinations, and there’s more to it than just that –”

“Abra, you shouldn’t call a pony a changeling just because of how he looks,” Major chided gently. “You wouldn’t call a book a changeling just because of the color of its cover, would you?”

“But…I….”

“I know that you’re a good pony, Abra, and I know that you’re really smart too. I know that you wouldn’t say terrible things about another pony just because of how he looks and because you don’t like him very much,” Major continued. “That’s wrong.”

Abra looked down at the desk again, and seemed to slump a bit. “But…it explains so much, and Pierce just seems so sure….”

Major gave another sad smile. “Pierce is a really good guy, but even good guys can be wrong sometimes too, Abra.”

Stasis nodded sagely as magic flowed through his horn.

Abra sighed. “I don’t know…maybe, but –” She paused, sniffing. “Wait…do you smell that?”

Major sniffed, blinked his eyes a few times, and sneezed violently.

Abra sniffed again. “Is that….” She turned around, staring at the scented wax pillars now scattered around the edge of the room, each one burning bright with the flames of romance and combustion. “…Candles?”

Major sneezed again.

Abra sniffed a third time. “And that smell…it’s not just the candles, it almost smells like….”

Reaching into her desk, she pulled out a beautiful (but expensive) bouquet of flowers in one hoof, and an expensive (yet delicious) box of chocolates in the other.

Stasis grinned wickedly to himself. He had read in Star Swirl’s books about the primal nature of olfaction; these amorous scents would bypass the recalcitrant and antisocial segments of her brain, rendering her helpless before Major’s debonair ways. It was the perfect plan!

“Major…” she began, looking at him out of the corner of her eye. “Did you….”

“Achoo!” Major sniffed. “Abra, I don’t – achoo!” He wiped his nose and blinked his eyes, which were beginning to look slightly red. “Abra, I don’t know where these – achoo!”

Abra set her gifts down and looked at Major with concern. “Major, I think you’re having an allergic reaction. If you didn’t put these here, then I think we should just leave them and go to another room.”

“Oh…okay. I –” Major sneezed so hard it shook his desk, and he was breathing through his mouth now, his voice sounding strange as he said, “I’m sorry…can we stop by the bathroom real quick? I really, really need a tissue.” Major stood up, but had to brace himself against the desk as another bout of sneezing shook him.

“Oh, um…sure. Let me help you,” Abra said, walking over to him. She hesitated for a moment before taking his hoof and leading him towards the door.

As the door shut behind them, Stasis cackled openly to himself, the overflow of his glee echoing off the steel walls around him and into the empty room below. It was working! It was really working! It made sense, that a changeling such as himself would naturally be skilled in the ways of love, but still…it was working!

Stasis used his magic to stuff the chocolates back in the desk for later, and then scurried through the vents. As he passed over the adjoining classroom, he could hear the poor, stupid students below, hoping that nurture could give them what nature had not. He cackled.

“What was that?”

“Did you hear something? In the ceiling?”

“You don’t think it’s…Stasis again, do you?”

“Oh, Celestia. Let it be rats.”

Turning a corner, he quickly reached the hallway and looked down through the grate.

He had gotten there just in time to see Major exit the restroom, blowing his nose into a wad of toilet paper. Stasis reached out with his magic and slowly turned the handle to the teachers’ lounge, cracking the door.

Major put the tissue in his saddlebags, sniffling. “Sorry about that….”

“It’s fine. Let’s just…pick somewhere else to talk,” said Abra, looking down the hall.

“What about the teachers’ lounge?” said Major after a few moments. “It’s pretty comfortable, and look! The door’s open!”

“You don’t think that the teachers will mind, do you? I don’t want us to break any rules…” said Abra, one hoof fidgeting with a lock of her mane.

“We won’t mess anything up, and there’s hardly anypony here anyway, so I think that we’ll be okay,” Major assured her, walking towards the open door. Stasis skittered for the appropriate grate.

There, Stasis noted that, even without his suit, Major was almost excessively polite, opening the door for Abra and pulling out a chair for her at one of the small tables before sitting across.

“While I was in the bathroom, I remembered that I forgot to ask you what you thought about Star Swirl’s books the other day,” Major said with a smile. “I know you didn’t have much time –”

“Oh, I loved them!” Abra said, perking up instantly. “It wasn’t so much the books, though…did you see how he looked at me? Star Swirl the Bearded! Looking at me!” She got a dreamy look in her eyes that Stasis would have taken as a sign of victory if it had been directed at the colt in front of her instead of a frumpy bush-chinned geezer half a town away.

Major nodded amicably and leaned back in his seat. “Yeah, I know he can be kind of scary sometimes, but he’s actually the nicest old wizard that I’ve ever met. Well, as long as you don’t touch his stuff, or make fun of his clothes, or feel his beard without asking first.”

“Did he really help you with your homework?” Abra asked, a wistful smile on her face.

Major sat forward in his seat again, looking concerned. “You know, you’ve asked me that a lot since you started talking to me, Abra. Are you feeling okay?”

“I just can’t imagine Star Swirl the Bearded helping somepony with their homework,” she said, resting her chin on her hooves and staring off into space.

Stasis rolled his eyes. He was tempted to let her spend time with the whip-cracking wizard, just so she’d know what it was really like.

“Or why he would ever want to adopt somepony like Stasis,” she continued, her lips twisting into a sneer.

“Stasis is really, really smart, and even Star Swirl is impressed with how good he is at magic,” Major offered. “Maybe that’s the reason?”

Abra focused on Major again, and her eyes seemed to flash. “There’s more to being a magician than intelligence,” she said vehemently. “There’s…there’s discipline, and study, and desire. Just because Stasis was born with a bigger brain and a bigger horn than everypony else doesn’t mean that he’s worthier of being Star Swirl’s student!”

Major cocked his head curiously. “But…you’ve said before that Star Swirl should do like Princess Celestia does and take on as students the ponies with the most…um…potential. Doesn’t Stasis have a lot of –”

“He’s lazy,” Abra interjected, “and cruel, and…and….” She paused, looked around a bit, and leaned across the table as she whispered, “and sometimes, he’s just. Plain. Evil.”

Major gasped. “Abra!”

“It’s true!” she insisted. “Even you’ve got to see it, Major! I mean…” she paused, twirling one lock nervously. “I mean, not that you wouldn’t notice something, Major, I’m sure you’re just as perceptive as any other pony, but…what I mean is, even if he’s not a changeling, he’s still got to be the single most egotistical, narcissistic, psychopathic –”

“Now, Abra,” Major said, looking at her pityingly, “we’re going to be in the sixth grade soon. Do you really think that we should still be calling ponies names like that?”

Abra fidgeted. “Well, I wasn’t really calling him names, I was just –”

“I think that we should always try to think and say nice things about other ponies, especially when they’re not around to defend themselves.” Major paused. “Well, my dad says that, but I think it too.”

“Well, that’s great in principal Major, but this is real life, and sometimes it’s just…you know…hard to…ugh, I don’t know.” She face-planted into the table.

“Are you okay, Abra?” Major asked, starting to stand up.

Abra waved him off. “You’re right, Major. You’re right. I’m almost an adolescent, at the top of my class, and I shouldn’t stoop down to obsessing over some snotty, lying, obnoxious, hateful –”

“Abra….”

“– wonderful, angelic little colt. I mean, what do I care if he’s Star Swirl’s adopted son? That he gets to read priceless works before breakfast, and discuss thaumaturgical theory over lunch, and take magic lessons after dinner? Star Swirl gets to adopt whoever he wants, right? I don’t. I don’t care.” She sniffled.

Major seemed about to say something, but then paused. After a few moments of contemplation he said, “You know, Abra, Star Swirl loves magic more than anypony I know, and your cutie mark is in magic.” He pointed at the sparkling wand on her flank. “I bet he would love to have somepony to talk to about magic. He was always confusing me when he tried to explain math using examples from magic. He did that in science, too. Also history, and grammar, and when he did it in earthpony studies, I think he might have confused himself a little, too.”

“No…” Abra mumbled into the table. “He wouldn’t want to talk to me. I used to send him letters almost every day, for a while. After I got my cutie mark. I used to check the mailbox every morning, but I never got anything back.”

She sighed. “Before he left, my dad used to tell me I should just go talk to him when he comes into town, but he always had this big frown on his face, and he’d scowl at anypony who got close. I was too scared.”

Major rubbed the back of his neck. “Um…Star Swirl really doesn’t like ponyrazzi. And if he doesn’t recognize the address on a letter, he usually assumes it’s from solicitors. He burns those in some of his experiments.”

“And of course, now he’s got Stasis, whose cutie mark is a pair of masks. Why would he want somepony whose special talent is magic, when he can have somepony whose special talent is getting up in front of everypony and making us all look like foals?”

“I don’t think that Stasis’ cutie mark is –”

“And now he’s got Stasis there living with him, talking to him whenever he wants to. Can you imagine the kinds of things he must be saying about me? If there’s anything Stasis is good at, it’s making me look like an idiot in front of ponies!”

Stasis scoffed at the idea that Star Swirl listened to anything he had to say.

Major reached over the table and patted Abra gently on the foreleg. “It’s alright, Abra. I don’t think that Star Swirl really listens to what Stasis has to say anyway. Also, Star Swirl was talking to me one time, and he said that he loves teaching ponies who work hard and really listen to what he says, even if they’re not that bright. He says that’s why he stopped teaching undergrads.”

“It’s okay, Major,” Abra mumbled into the table. “Star Swirl is a brilliant, brilliant stallion, and I know he’s very busy doing experiments and writing papers since I actually read those papers even when I don’t fully understand them, and he doesn’t have time to tutor one elementary school student who, advanced as she is, still has to compete with thousands upon thousands of other elementary students across Equestria for his attention….”

“You’re one of the smartest and hard-working ponies that I know,” Major replied, looking thoughtful. “Maybe…maybe you can help him with his experiments or something? He always finds time for me even though I’m an earthpony and not very smart, so I’m sure that he’d love to spend time with you once he gets to know you.”

Abra sniffled, and opened her mouth to reply. A rose petal drifted into it. Spitting it out quickly, she sat up and looked around. Petals drifted down into her mane, and across the table, and onto the floor around them in a big heart-shape.

“But…but where….” She paused, staring at a plate on the table in between them.

On it was a single strand of spaghetti.

“Did you do this, Major?” Abra asked, staring unblinkingly at the plate.

“Nooooo…” Major drawled, chewing thoughtfully on a petal. “I’m an earthpony, remember? I can’t make stuff just appear out of nowhere like you can.”

“But how…I….” Abra seemed to scrutinize the surrounding cabinets and tables carefully.

Major frowned, swallowing. “You don’t think that maybe the school is haunted, do you? Maybe that’s why there’s no school in summer. Because of all the ghosts?”

Abra looked considerably more perturbed as she stroked her mane. “No…ghosts aren’t real, but there are creatures made of magic who can act like ghosts. Discord may be one, and the windigos…but windigos are supposedly terrified of heat and flame, and nopony’s seen them outside of the frozen north in thousands of years….”

“Hmm…that makes sense,” Major said, nodding. “There are really simple gemstones in the ventilation system that suck out the heat. The windigos must stay here in the summer because it’s so hot outside, which is why we have summer off.”

“No, Major, that’s not….” Abra paused, and then shook her head. “…Never mind. Let’s just go to another room, okay? Something really weird is going on.” She got up and moved for the door, Major following right after.

Stasis felt a bit conflicted, watching them go. On the one hoof, they didn’t really feel any more lovey than they did before the spaghetti. On the other, there was really only so much Swirl-worship that he could take. It was probably worth it.

Of the windigos, though…Stasis sighed wistfully at the thought of his nebulous northern counterparts. Oh, to be a misophage instead of a philophage! Being able to literally drink your enemies’ hate had to be the greatest thing in the world.

Still, as he skittered through the vents, he liked to imagine himself as a fanged cupid, fluttering over the lovers below, notching his arrow and stretching his bow. After all, who better to judge and arbitrate the hearts of ponies than one who fed on all its fruits, a connoisseur of crimson passion and life’s bloody delight? Stasis wondered why more changelings weren’t involved in the matchmaking industry.

Stasis arrived over the hall, but only in time to see the ponies move into the music storage room. Scowling, he followed.

“Do you think that we’ll be alright in here?” asked Major, inspecting the air and string instruments stored around the edges of the cramped room.

“I don’t know, Major…” Abra said, sitting at the work table in the middle of the room. “I’m starting to think that maybe meeting in the school wasn’t the best idea after all. Mom isn’t especially fond of visitors, but maybe next time we can meet at your house, or at the library again.”

“Yeah, I’m sorry Abra…it was Stasis’ idea, but I thought it might be fun, since I know you like school so much.” Major sat down across from her.

Abra gave a great sigh. “You don’t think that he’s really sorry, do you? I mean…it’s sort of like that old saying: ‘Bad apples never make good pie.’”

“Well, Stasis isn’t an apple, Abra,” Major explained. “And I’m not sure whether he’s sorry or not; he doesn’t tell the truth sometimes. But maybe you shouldn’t worry about that? Maybe you should forgive him even if he’s not sorry.”

Abra scowled “What? Why?”

Major traced shapes in the dust on the worktable with one hoof as he spoke. “Well, my dad says that as long as you hold grudges against ponies, you’re letting them control you, and I don’t think that anypony would really want to be controlled by Stasis. Also, some of the things that Stasis hates most are vegetables, and bureaucrats, and ponies who he wants to be enemies with but who treat him like a friend instead.”

Stasis scowled. He had told Major those things in confidence!

“I….” Abra paused, her mouth working silently for a moment. “…I don’t know, Major. I kind of already agreed to help Pierce with his plan, so….”

If ‘Pierce’ caught his interest, ‘plan’ gutted it and sucked the marrow from its bones. Stasis’ eyes grew wide as he pressed his face to the grate.

“Huh? What plan?” asked Major.

Abra looked down at the floor. “Well, Pierce is so convinced that Stasis is a changeling, he wants to prove it with the same spell the royal guard uses. Obviously he can’t do it himself, and since I am the most skilled magician in school, it just seemed kind of natural, you know, that he would come to me….”

Major frowned at her. “You’re going to cast a spell on Stasis?”

Stasis grinned as he crawled onto the grate, pressing his ear to it. That’s it! Put the screws to her, Major! Love shall overcome!

“It’s not like it’s going to hurt him!” Abra said quickly. “I mean, if he’s not a changeling, it won’t. And if he is a changeling, well, he deserves what’s coming to him, right?”

Major wasn’t smiling.

“I…I don’t even know the spell yet, anyway,” Abra said, looking away from Major as she quickly stroked her bangs. “It’s not in any of the books. The only ponies who know it are the few royal guard unicorns left garrisoned in the city, and they’re about as talkative as a cactus. Somehow, Pierce managed to convince one to teach me the spell, though. We’re supposed to meet him early next Saturday.”

“You’re going to cast this spell on Stasis without even asking him first?”

Abra gave a tentative smile. “Well, no, if he is a changeling, he won’t give me permission to cast the spell, will he?”

Her smile was ground away against Major’s stony expression, and she looked away again. “I would cast it from a distance if I could, so if he wasn’t a changeling, he would never even know…but I don’t think I can. It would be best if my horn were actually touching him, so that the magic could just flow straight through. Since I can’t really ask him, and I can’t do it secretly from a distance…that’s where Pierce comes in.”

What does she mean? Ask her, Major, ask her! Use the opener of your love upon the can of her defiance!

“Abra, don’t you think that it would be better just to talk to Stasis instead? I don’t think that going around hexing ponies is a good way to fix your problems,” said Major.

“Hexing is a perfectly legitimate way to solve problems!” Abra protested, standing up and glaring at Major. “Almost every problem in the world can be solved by the precise and knowledgeable application of magic, and that includes Stasis!”

Stasis ground his face into the grate. When Stasis wanted ponies to ignore each other, they fell into each other’s forelegs; when he wanted them to stare into each other’s eyes and confess their innermost secrets within range of his hearing, they glared at each other like rabid cockatrices. How ponies managed to fall in love without his direct intervention was beyond him.

Major opened his mouth to respond just as music began to fill the room. Simple but cutting notes hummed in the air, strings and horns combining to tug at the heart and blow warmth into the soul.

“Okay, that’s it.” Abra jumped up and walked around next to Major, looking about fearfully. “We’re getting out of here right now, Major, and we’re not coming back until school starts again in the fall.”

“I really thought that the windigos would be better at music than this…” Major mused, rubbing at one ear. “This is awful.”

Oh, yeah, like you could do any –

Added to the tweaking of strings and the whistling of air, a groaning and creaking beneath him.

…If this were Pierce’s plan, everything would have gone perfectly, thought Stasis as the grate popped open beneath him, and he began to fall.

“NOOOOOOOOO!” Stasis screamed as he crashed bodily into the table and two of its legs buckled beneath him, sending him rolling and crashing into the instruments nearby. Screams and yells echoed in the cramped, dark room.

The sound of a door opening, then: “What in Celestia’s name is going on in here?”

“It’s not what you think,” Stasis croaked, trying to push a cheap guitar out of his face. “Whatever you think, that’s not what it is!”

“You…you little monster! You were spying on us this whole time, weren’t you? You set this whole thing up so that you could prank me!”

Stasis shoved the offending instrument out of his face, and looked up at Abra, glaring down at him. He blinked.

“…Ow,” he croaked, belatedly.

“Ugh!” Abra wheeled around and slipped past the teacher at the door. Stasis could hear the sound of her hooves stomping down the hallway.

“I don’t know what you all were doing in here, but you two are not going to leave until this room is as nice as you found it. Is that clear?” said the teacher.

“I just fell out of the ceiling,” Stasis thought it pertinent to point out. “I think we’ve got more important things to worry about than your stupid room.”

“We’ll take care of it, sir,” clarified Major.

After a few moments of glaring at Stasis, the teacher nodded and closed the door behind him.

Stasis tried to roll over so he could stand, but then he was reminded that that side was a bruise, and so he tried the other. That side was a bruise, too.

“Major…” Stasis wheezed. “I don’t feel so good, Major….”

Major reached out and helped him to his hooves. Stasis’ legs wobbled, and he had to lean on the orange pony.

“You haven’t been a very good friend today, Stasis,” Major said flatly.

“I, um…I can explain…” Stasis said, checking his ribs for fractures with one hoof. “Just give me a minute….”

“You promised that you weren’t going to trick Abra,” said Major. “You promised!”

Diagnosing himself as ‘bent, but never broken,’ Stasis prescribed bed rest and self-indulgence. Turning around to face his friend, he said, “Okay, maybe I wasn’t as totally straightforward as I could have been. But it was for your own good, Major! I was trying to bring you and Abra together. Don’t you want to be together, Major?”

Major looked deeply skeptical. “What do you mean?”

“I mean, you like Abra, and Abra likes you, and I like it when I can get Abra to do what I want via you. That’s sort of like friendship, right? This whole plan was about friendship!” Stasis hurt too much to make a dramatic flourish, so he just smiled widely instead.

Major looked about the room. The scattered instruments, the broken table, the grate somehow on the other side of the room.

“I’m beginning to question the wisdom of convoluted planning,” Stasis acceded. “I’m beginning to consider goal-oriented improvisation as a legitimate strategy.”

“Stasis, how can you really be friends with somepony if they can’t trust you?” Major said, bringing the conversation back around. “How are you going to get ponies to trust you when they catch you lying to them all the time?”

Stasis frowned. That was a problem. Normally he’d just say, ‘pretend to be somepony they do trust,’ but that hadn’t really worked out for him so far.

“Lie harder?” he posited instead. “Practice makes perfect? Believe yourself, even when nopony else does?”

“Do you want me to not trust you anymore?” asked Major.

Stasis usually relied on facial expressions, body language, and tone just as much as any other creature; unless someone was being deliberately disingenuous or unexpressive, there usually wasn’t any reason not to. Now, though, as he focused on Major, he couldn’t help but feel the familiar heat that signified one piqued pony.

He looked away and muttered, “No….”

“No, you don’t want me to trust you anymore?”

“No, I do want you to trust me.”

“Do you want Star Swirl to trust you? What about Goldie? Do you want them to just think that you’re a liar, too?”

“I want them to trust me too, I guess…” Stasis grumbled.

“Would you trust a pony who lied to you all the time?”

“Alright, I get it! I get it, Major!” Stasis shouted, throwing his forelegs into the air despite the pain. “You know, just because your dad goes around teaching you life lessons all the time doesn’t mean you get to do the same thing with me. You’re not my dad.”

“Well…if your dad were here, I bet he would want you to learn to be honest, too,” said Major.

Stasis turned his face away to hide his sneer. If Stasis’ ‘dad’ were here, he’d probably crush Major and all the other ponies Stasis knew like insects, and who knew what he’d do to Stasis himself. Underlings spoke of Father’s strength, and his wisdom, and his cunning; they whispered of how terrible he was a foe, of dead ponies who could feed noling, and the nest of bones from the dragon he had slain, and the bruises which Mother never acknowledged. Changelings spoke of his power and ruthlessness; no one said anything about his honesty.

“I’m sorry, Stasis…” Major added after a few moments. “I didn’t mean to bring up your dad like that. I know you must really miss him.”

Stasis’ lips peeled back from his teeth in a faux-smile. He tried to brush those thoughts away and compose himself so Major wouldn’t see.

“…I guess I’m sorry, too,” he said finally. Reluctantly. “I really wasn’t trying to hurt Abra’s feelings this time, I swear. I just didn’t want her to keep helping Pierce work against me.” He turned back to look at Major.

Major looked more sad than angry, now. “I was having a really nice time with Abra, and you ruined it,” he said quietly.

“I promise I won’t try to play Celestia with your love life anymore, Major,” Stasis promised. “Also, I promise that I’ll mean my promises from now on. My promises to you, anyway. Since you’re my friend.”

“Well…okay,” Major said, nodding. “And I’m sorry that I talked to you like I was your dad. I guess that’s Star Swirl’s job now, not mine.”

“It’s okay,” Stasis said with a shrug. “I think I kind of hated my dad, anyway.”

There was silence for a few moments. Major scuffed his hoof against the floor.

“Well…um…I guess we should probably get to work cleaning up this room now,” Major said, looking around.

Stasis’ eyes drifted towards the door.

“Do you want to put up the instruments, or set up the table? I think it’s one of those with the collapsible legs, so it’s not really broken.”

Stasis wondered what was on the other side of that door. Something more exciting than what was on this side, he’d wager.

“You are going to help me clean this up, right? Right, Stasis?”

“…I fell out of the ceiling.”

Falling, Phasing, Physicians

Stasis awoke to the sound of a door creaking, the subtle wheezing of old ponies after a flight of stairs, the clip-clopping of overlarge hooves trying to remain quiet until it was time.

Grinning wickedly to himself, Stasis began to slowly slither backwards towards the blankets’ center-mass, so slowly it might confound an aging pony’s eyes, and he covered his ears with his hooves.

“Rise and shine, lad!” came a muted bellow, as if from an elderly dragon many miles away, loud and impotent.

Stasis began grabbing the blankets and pulling them tighter around himself, wriggling about until they were wrapped about him like a suit of armor, an impenetrable cocoon, and focused upon falling asleep. It was actually quite an uncomfortable position for sleeping, but he’d been getting lots of practice.

“Come now, lad. Summer’s days start early, and so should you!”

Stasis did his best impression of the noises Star Swirl made when he was sleeping. Even a changeling’s vocal chords were stretched trying to reproduce such agonized sounds.

“Oh. Oh, that’s cheeky.”

“Is he always this lazy in the mornings, Mr. Swirl?” asked Goldie.

Stasis sneered. Lazy? No one was more industrious when it came to such rebelliousness than Stasis Silvertongue! Also, Goldie was in his room for some reason.

“Why is Goldie in my room?” he wondered aloud.

Star Swirl gave an ominous chortle.

“Star Swirl made me his helper this morning, and I’m helping get you out of bed! Now get out of bed, Stasis!” She poked him through his textile defenses.

“No,” he growled, turning his back to her.

“Yes! Get up, get up, get up!” shouted Goldie, punctuating with pokes.

Stasis muttered the most unflattering things he could think of as he put on his masque, just in case.

“Hey… hey, Mr. Swirl, I think I just saw something yellow.”

“In Stasis’ bed, eh? That doesn’t surprise me.”

Stasis thought for a moment, then smiled. “You know, Goldie… it’s soooo early in the morning, and this is suuuuuch a huge bed. If you wanted to take a quick nap in it, nopony would have to know. Nopony would judge.”

He was going to make Goldie sleep at the foot of the bed.

“Let him know what we think of his tempter’s ways, lass,” came the solemn reply.

“It’s almost nine in the morning, Stasis! Wake up them sleepy bones!” Goldie said, shaking him again.

Stasis snarled. “It’s summer, you freaks. No learning, no working – no waking!”

Star Swirl sighed laboriously. “Eh… well, it is Saturday, I reckon. Lass, how would you like to help me fix some oatmeal and, say, fried potaters?”

“For breakfast?” The scrunching of Goldie’s nose was almost audible.

“Aye. We’ll put a plate of it outside the lad’s door. See if that doesn’t draw him out.”

Stasis was reconsidering his anti-antemeridian stance when a thought occurred to him.

“Wait… what day is it?”

“Saturday,” Goldie said, then paused. “…Hey, weren’t you going to do something this morn–“

“Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaah!”

Stasis began digging his way out; his fortress had become a prison, grasping and smothering as he punched and flailed against it. Even as he freed his hooves, it covered his muzzle, and he shook his head from side-to-side, struggling to breathe as he pushed forward.

The world fell away below him, and he hit the floor with a thud. The blankets fell to cover him gently.

“…Well, I reckon that’s mission accomplished, lass. Do you think you could set some water to boil for me?”

“Dad lets me boil water all the time at home, and I know how to treat burns!” Goldie said as their hoofsteps receded.

Stasis shoved the blankets off of himself as he wondered: was it too late? Abra had said ‘Saturday morning,’ but she hadn’t said when Saturday morning. And he didn’t know where she was going; he’d planned on stalking her house until she left, so he could follow her. Or better yet, find some way to distract her so she missed her meeting entirely.

Scrambling up off the floor, he dashed out the door and down the hall.

To his chagrin, the ponies were walking side-by-side down the stairs. Worse, Star Swirl was moving slow; slower even than his normal, glacial pace, his breathing somewhat labored.

“Speed up, speed up, speed up!” Stasis shouted, hopping up and down on the stairs right behind them.

Goldie gave him the evil eye. “Don’t be rude, Stasis. You should never rush ladies and old ponies!”

“This is important. I’m already late for a, uh, meeting!”

Star Swirl looked behind and frowned as he said, “A meeting, eh? You? On a Saturday morning?”

Stasis pawed at the stair, wondering if he could just jump over the two of them. “Yes, a meeting. You’re not the only one with important things to do, you know. I’m a very important pony, and lots of other important ponies want to meet with me!”

“Like Major?” asked Goldie, who hadn’t sped up at all.

“Even more important than Major!” said Stasis. “Anyway, if you had just taught me how to teleport like I asked, we wouldn’t have these kinds of problems!”

Star Swirl looked him in the eye. “Watch your tone, lad,” he said, his pace nevertheless increasing slightly. “You’re never going to convince me to teach you advanced magic when you’re too irresponsible –”

Star Swirl’s hoof caught on the edge of his cloak. His eyes widened for the briefest instant as he pitched forward.

His head hit the stairs with a thunk. His body flipped over as he tumbled down in a cacophony of noise. The few brief seconds seemed much longer.

Stasis stared at the body at the bottom of the stairs. Goldie screamed.

“He’s dead…” Stasis whispered. “He’s dead! We killed him!”

Goldie was already at the bottom of the stairs, touching Star Swirl with her hoof.

“Mr. Swirl? Mister… Mr. Swirl?”

Stasis dashed down the stairs and jumped in front of her; he peeled back an eyelid.

“Stasis! What are you doing!” Goldie shrieked. “Don’t do that!”

Stasis took back his hoof quickly. “See how his eyes are rolled up in the back of head? He’s not dead, he’s just in a coma or something!”

Goldie’s eyes flickered between Stasis and Star Swirl. “Well… what are we going to do?”

Stasis whirled on her. “Not what we are going to do; what you are going to do. Goldie, you have to save him!”

Goldie hugged herself defensively. “B-b-but I don’t know what to do, Stasis. I’m not a doctor!”

Stasis threw his forehooves in the air. “What was the purpose of all those countless hours of playing nurse if you can’t help the one stallion who really needs it, Goldie?”

Goldie squeezed her eyes shut and looked away.

Stasis hissed as he looked over at Star Swirl, his limbs splayed and his hat crumpled off to the side. “Well, then, what are we going to do? The hospital’s all the way on the other side of town, and we need a doctor right now!”

Goldie sniffled and said, “T-there’s one doctor I know, Doctor Lipid… he’s really nice -”

“Where?”

“He lives in a big brown house across the street from the thrift shop….”

Stasis knew where that was; it was still several blocks away. Star Swirl could be dying as they spoke, his heart stopping, his brain swelling, his lungs deflating! Stasis didn’t even know all the things that could happen to ponies when they were hurt!

His wings suddenly ached on his back, desperate to buzz; if only he could use them! If only he could teleport, or cast magic wings, he could go straight there!

Wait. There was one spell that he knew. He’d been Star Swirl’s student for months; nopony would question it!

“Goldie!” he shouted, drawing energy into his horn. “You have to take care of Star Swirl until I return!”

She looked at him aghast. “B-b-but -”

He turned in the direction of the thrift store, charged at the intervening bookcase, and leapt, channeling the spell.

He felt the magic almost explode out of him as he sailed through the books and the wall, a cold pressure squeezing and pulling at his insides, and then the sun’s light burst into his eyes as he fell, tripping as his hooves hit the ground and he smashed face-first into the dirt.

A moment later he was up, already channeling as he charged at the cast-iron fence. There was that same explosive burst of energy and light torn from his body as the bars squeezed and pulled through him, and he was on the other side. Glancing back briefly, he saw sunflower yellow flames crackling against the iron and grass beneath it.

Speeding up again, he charged at the neighbor’s house. Knowing that the floor would probably be higher than the ground, he leapt again, felt the same burst of energy almost squeezed out of his body, and hit the floor. Wobbling for a moment, he tore off through the darkened room and out the other side.

Pushing himself to go faster, faster, he hit the ground running, tore through the neighbor’s yard, and leapt again.

Ponies were eating breakfast peacefully at their dinner table. Screaming, Stasis charged; there were shouts as they scrambled out of the way and he vaulted onto the table, milk splattering one leg as he dashed and jumped off the other side, and slammed through the opposite wall in a fiery cackling of magic.

The spell was primed in his horn now, the thoughts and channels of his mind held stiff as he pumped magic through it in bursts. He broke through the wall of the neighboring house, its matter tugging at him slightly, and he phased through an interior wall, and through an external one, and then he was falling through the air towards a mare watering flowers.

He phased through her, her aura gripping and burning him with a crackle of blue and yellow flame, and he held onto the spell too long, his legs sinking deep into the earth. His scream and the mare’s mixed together as he slowed the magic passing through the spell down to a trickle, the earth becoming like molasses as he waded upwards and out of it. Yanking his hind legs free, he began galloping again.

The houses began to blend together as he galloped, his muscles pulsing even as he poured his considerable energy through his horn like a faucet, the adrenaline rush and power glut exciting him even as it mixed with his fear, pushing him to go faster, faster, faster. His shouts merged together into one continuous yell as he went, dodging sluggardly ponies by fractions of a pace.

When his power exhausted itself, it surprised him, the glow turning to sparks as pain seared through his skull. He had barely a second to turn his head aside before slamming into a wall, nearly impaling himself on his own horn. He stumbled towards the door, ignoring the ponies’ shouts as he clumsily opened it with his hooves and practically fell out into the street.

He was almost there. Not giving his aching muscles time to stiffen, he broke into a run, charging straight towards a throng of ponies standing in his way.

“Out of the way, you fools!” he screamed. The throng - a large family, he thought - broke apart in a panic, one of the smallest children stumbling and falling; Stasis leapt, sailing over the obstacle and hitting the ground running, shouting at the ponies his urgency, forcing them to part before him.

Slowing his pace down to a trot, he shoved his way between and past two burly stallions. The thrift shop was right in front of him, so where was the big brown house?

There! He forced his burning muscles back into motion, crossing the distance as fast as his wingless body would allow.

At the top of the stairs he raised his hoof and began beating against the door and shouting, furious at his inability to beat his wings with pride, or crack reality with his horn, or beat down doors with his hooves. If he were an adult he would have torn off his masque and teleported or flown here in seconds, and there wasn’t anypony in the world who could have –

The door opened suddenly, a fat, saggy old mare staring back at him.

“You’re not a doctor!” Stasis wailed. “Star Swirl’s going to die because you’re not a doctor!”

“Good heavens. Star Swirl, you say? Has something happened?” asked a much younger, plumper pony from behind the old fat one.

“For you,” mumbled the mare, heading back into the house.

“Thank you, Mother,” said the brown unicorn cheerfully. “Now, is somepony injured? How can I help you, Mister…? – ouch!”

Stasis sunk his teeth deeper into the pony’s leg, almost breaking the skin as he began to drag the pony down the steps.

“Hold on there!” said Dr. Lipid. “Where are we going, and why? Can you at least tell me that?”

“Whe’er goings -” Stasis spat out the leg. “Star Swirl hit his head and we’re going to save him, you fool! Faster, faster, faster!” He jumped behind Dr. Lipid and put his forehooves on the pony’s haunches, pushing as hard as he could, to little effect; the pony’s mass was just too great.

“Alright, alright, I’m going!” said the unicorn as he magically brought his saddlebags out of the house and closed the door. “Let’s go!”

Dr. Lipid began waddling along at a mediocre pace. Even exhausted and aching as he was, Stasis matched it easily, eyeing the pony’s much longer legs.

“The greatest magician who ever lived is hurt, and that’s the best you can do? I thought all you doctors did was talk about how important it is to exercise!”

“Do as I say, not as I do,” wheezed Dr. Lipid.

Thinking quickly, Stasis spotted a carriage coming down the road towards them, and burst into motion. He threw himself in front of the ponies drawing it, hissing and batting at them with his hooves. They pulled up, cursing as the carriage bumped their haunches.

“What the Discord’s gotten into you, child?” said the driver, yet another fat old pony, as he got down and approached Stasis. “Are you mad, jumping in front of my boys like that?”

“Quick, get in the carriage!” Stasis yelled at the doctor. “I’ll distract him!” He bared his teeth and tensed his haunches, preparing to attack.

“Star Swirl seems to have had an accident, and I’m a doctor,” said Dr. Lipid. “May we borrow your carriage?”

The driver blinked. “Star Swirl, you say? Oh! And this must be ‘the lad,’ of course!” Turning to his sons he said, “Get the doctor and the boy to Star Swirl’s home, on the double!”

Stasis ran and jumped into the carriage, followed by the doctor. He grabbed the reins with his teeth and flicked them, earning a glare from the ponies as they hauled the carriage around to face the way they’d come and broke into a brisk canter.

“I must say, that was quick thinking on your part, commandeering this carriage like that,” said the doctor, settling comfortably into his seat.

“Commandeer?” Stasis questioned.

“It means to borrow for an important purpose,” said the pony with a smile.

“I know what it means,” he grumbled. Stasis preferred to think that they had stolen the carriage.

“Also….” Dr. Lipid sniffed. “…Is that raw potatoes I smell?”

Stasis ignored the gluttonous doctor, tapping his hooves impatiently, wishing he could do something to make the carriage rattling beneath him go faster. His thoughts drifted to what he would do if he didn’t have Star Swirl around….

He felt a foreleg drape itself across his back, and Dr. Lipid smiled at him and said, “I’m sure he’s going to be fine. You did the right thing, coming to get me so quickly.”

Stasis angrily shook off the offending appendage and looked away.

Within moments the carriage pulled in front of the iron gate, and Stasis leapt down and barged into the house.

Star Swirl’s hat was now settled softly atop his head, covering his bald spot. The side of his face was damp, and a half-empty glass of water rested beside him. Goldie sat a few paces away, her face in her hooves.

Dr. Lipid walked over to Star Swirl, dropped his satchels, and sat down. He lit his horn, magic flowing over Star Swirl’s body even as his hooves began doing much the same.

“Well, I’m not feeling or sensing any fractures,” he said as he bent one of Star Swirl’s legs at the joint, “which means he probably doesn’t have osteoporosis, despite his physically inactive lifestyle. Good news there! Also, his breathing seems alright, pulse is slow and steady, and gut is striking up the normal choir. Let’s see about that head injury.”

Gently, he lifted Star Swirl’s head with his magic, and pointed at a swollen spot on Star Swirl’s left temple, just above the eye. “See that? That’s our culprit, right there. Other than some bruising in a few places, it’s the only external problem I can find.”

“What about his brain?” Stasis demanded. “I don’t care about the other parts; what about his brain?”

“I don’t know. Let’s see.” Dr. Lipid seized a flask filled with a white crystalline substance from his satchel and, unstopping the cork, poured it into the glass of water. He held it under Star Swirl’s nose.

Stasis watched, rapt. Nothing happened. A tightness grew in his chest and he shuffled his hooves, feeling useless, wishing that Star Swirl were a changeling so that Stasis could give him energy that way –

Star Swirl’s eyelids twitched, then blinked, then opened. He looked between Stasis and Dr. Lipid.

“Eh?” Star Swirl asked.

“You’re not dead!” Stasis exclaimed. “We thought you were going to die!”

“Yeah, well, no need to sound so darn happy about it,” Star Swirl gruffed, trying to stand.

“Please stay seated,” Dr. Lipid said with a smile, putting a hoof on Star Swirl’s chest. “You’re not feeling well at the moment, Mr. Swirl.”

Star Swirl glared. “What are you talking about, you inexperienced sausage? I’m feeling just… I’m feeling… oh.” Star Swirl slouched a bit, and touched a forehoof tenderly to his forehead.

“Nothing’s broken or fractured as far as I can tell, but you’re pretty banged up from your fall down the stairs. Now I’ll just need to assess your mental state and –”

“My fall down the what now?” Star Swirl said, looking over at the offending steps.

“A poor start, but I still have high hopes for your recovery, Mr. Swirl,” said Dr. Lipid.

“I may be a bit longer in the tooth than you lot, but that doesn’t mean I’m some kind of… invalid, who just falls down every flight of stairs he comes across. What happened?” Star Swirl demanded, looking over at Stasis and scowling.

“You… tripped. On your cape,” Stasis said simply. Uncomfortably.

“What’s the last thing that you DO remember?” asked Dr. Lipid. “Something pleasant, I hope?”

“Aye. Clubbing an air-headed doctor upside the head. Or is that a precognition?”

Turning towards the one pony who’d remained quiet the entire time, Stasis walked up to her. “Goldie?” he asked. “Are you alright?”

“Increased irritability may be a good sign, actually. The most stubborn and aggressive elderly are often those with the strongest will to live.”

“You are walking on thin ice, boy. Literally, I will freeze that floor and send you crashing through it.”

Stasis touched Goldie’s shoulder with one hoof. “I’m sorry I put so much pressure on you earlier, Goldie; I should have known that your nurse-game wouldn’t prepare you for something like this. Even I didn’t know what to do, and I used to play fighting games all the time.”

Goldie turned to Stasis, her eyes watery. She took a tentative step towards him, then threw her forelegs around his neck and buried her face in his shoulder. He froze as she hugged him tightly.

“There… there?” Stasis said, patting her tentatively with one hoof.

“I strongly recommend against even routine magic use for at least a few days. Using your horn after head injuries or against your doctor has been known to lead to intense migraines and mis-prescribed laxatives.”

“Prescriptions?” Star Swirl’s eyes narrowed. “Time and space are my tools-of-the-trade, boy. Remember that time you thought you misplaced your favorite sweater? Maybe you didn’t. Remember that board certification exam you think you passed last month? Maybe you didn’t.”

Doctor Lipid laughed, seemingly unconcerned about the cosmic fire he was playing with. “How about we talk about your chronology for a bit, Mr. Swirl. What’s the last thing you remember?”

Star Swirl tugged at his beard in thought. “Eh… I was letting Goldie inside so we could both go wake up the lad. It’s a mite bit blurry after that.”

“So, some retrograde amnesia, then. Remember when I woke you from your concussion with true-love’s first kiss? That was a chuckler, I'll tell you.”

Stasis turned away from the two weird older ponies as, sniffling, Goldie let go of him and looked down at the floor. “I’m… I’m sorry, Stasis. I didn’t know what to do….”

“I’ve been scared before, too,” Stasis admitted. “When Trottingham was attacked, I think that was the worst. I was injured, and there were changelings and ponies fighting left and right, and I didn’t what to do or where to go. It was even worse than the ursa major.”

“You… you fought a star bear?” Goldie said, rubbing at her eye.

“Well… I was there, and the ursa was there, and there was fighting, yeah,” said Stasis. “So I guess I just have more experience being terrified than most ponies. I’ll probably develop an immunity to it after a while.”

Goldie’s eyes were moist as she looked over at Star Swirl, who was still threatening Dr. Lipid. “I wish I could do things to help ponies like you helped Star Swirl. I wish I didn’t just… just sit around and cry every time something bad happens….”

Stasis pondered that. Goldie was a pony, that was the problem. Herbivores like ponies were just weaker and more cowardly than changelings.

…Except when they were royal guardsponies. Or god-ponies. Or Star Swirl. But Stasis didn’t even really think of Star Swirl as a pony anymore; he was just… Star Swirl. He sort of had his own category.

Maybe Goldie could be like those? Maybe Goldie could be an exception that proved the rule, or something like that. Maybe Goldie could overcome her inner pony nature and rise to become something greater; a changeling-at-heart.

After all, if some of his own kind were weak pathetic quislings, then it was only fair that some ponies could be strong and courageous, he supposed.

Stasis eyed her critically. “Well… you don’t have a horn, or wings, and you’re pretty weak, especially for an earthpony.”

Goldie looked at him, and he couldn’t tell if she was glaring or about to cry.

“…But I bet there are other ways that you could help when something bad happens!” Stasis added quickly. “Look at Dr. Lipid; he’s fat and slow and smiles too much. But even he can still find ways to be useful!”

“I didn’t see the resemblance,” Dr. Lipid interrupted, looking back and forth between Star Swirl and Stasis, “…but now I do.”

“You… think I could become a doctor?” asked Goldie, her brow furrowing with thought.

Stasis shrugged; he would much rather be the one creating the injuries than the one patching them up, but to each his own. “I guess. Or a nurse. I’m not really sure what the difference is.”

“Doctors have more student loans,” said Dr. Lipid. “And are usually uglier.”

“Do you think that my cutie-mark might be in nursing? Or doctoring?” asked Goldie, looking back and forth between Stasis and Dr. Lipid.

“Only one way to find out,” said Dr. Lipid as he carefully inspected the inside of an indignant Star Swirl’s mouth. “It just so happens that I’m in the process of opening my own clinic right here in Trottingham. I’ll need some ponies to help manage the patients and take routine measurements like body temperature and heart rate, as well as administer certain medications.”

Goldie’s eyes twinkled.

“That’s kind of you,” said Star Swirl, pushing the doctor away and working his jaw. “Now, remind me: how much is this visit going to cost? I doubt the lad thought much about that when he decided to run off and fetch you.”

“He rather forcibly commandeered a carriage, actually,” said Dr. Lipid, “after dragging me out of my home with his teeth.”

“He was in such a hurry, he didn’t even use the door or a window; he just ran through the wall over there and almost started a fire,” said Goldie. “I didn’t even know he could do that. Did you teach him that spell, Mr. Swirl?”

Star Swirl blinked.

“I thought you were dying,” Stasis explained, shuffling his hooves. “I wouldn’t have used such, um… secret-techniques-that-I-read-about-in-one-of-your-books-and-wanted-to-surprise-you-with-later, if I’d known you’d just have to sniff some crystals and be okay.”

“Unfortunately… Mr. Swirl’s okayness is yet to be seen,” said Dr. Lipid, thankfully changing the subject. “Mr. Swirl’s displaying an amazing recovery time, overall, with few symptoms, but given his age and the severity of his concussion… hmm. Is Stasis the only pony living here with you?”

Star Swirl nodded grudgingly.

Dr. Lipid turned to Stasis and smiled. “Stasis, I’m going to need you to keep a close eye on Star Swirl for me, especially for the next few weeks.”

“Me?” Stasis asked, looking back and forth between the two.

Dr. Lipid nodded. “An injury like this could affect his mind, his memory, his magic. You know where I live, you can drop by and update me on his condition anytime you want to. Also, you’ll need to take care of your father for the next few days while he’s bedridden.”

“What?” Star Swirl bellowed. “Boy, you weren’t even born the last time I took that kind of time off. I’ll commit seppuku with my own horn before I abandon progress to the post-grads and adjutant professors!”

Dr. Lipid smiled. “You’re an eighty-plus-year-old stallion who just fell down a flight of stairs, Mr. Swirl. Even if you hadn’t knocked your brains half out of your head, I’d still prescribe bedrest.”

“He’s been feeling tired ever since he cast all those spells at my cute-ceanara, and that was days ago,” Stasis felt it prudent to note. “I’ve been trying to get him to rest but, you know how it is, if only he’d listen to me….”

Star Swirl’s bushy head slowly swiveled towards Stasis. He had a dangerous look about him.

“Bedrest, three days minimum,” said Dr. Lipid. “No magic for a week; not even basic levitation. Checkups every week for the next three. I’ll send you the bill.”

As the doctor and Star Swirl began to haggle over the price, as Goldie looked off with her own distant expression… Stasis wondered how he was going to find time to play with Major and Goldie if he had to stay inside and watch Star Swirl all day. He wondered whether he’d be able to attend rehearsal, or go to the park, or maybe harass the summer school students who couldn’t even pass with C’s like Major.

He looked at the sunlight streaming steeply through a window at the end of the hall, and with a sinking feeling in his chest, he realized that Saturday morning was essentially over. He wondered what he was going to do now that Pierce had his unicorn, and his unicorn had her spell.

Friendship is Magic!... plus Goldie

Moonlight seemed to almost blaze through the open window, painting the room in the stark silvers and shadows of night. No paintings hung upon the walls; no dressers hid in the corners; no wardrobes sat stuffed with clothing and knickknacks.

The only furnishings were the bed, simple and lumpy with age; the nightstand, barely more than a few pieces of wood nailed together; and a single chair that itself lacked paint or ornamentation of any kind.

“Your room doesn’t have much stuff in it, does it?” Stasis observed. “All the other ponies I know seem to love to stuff their rooms full of as much junk as they can find. I think even my room has more stuff in it than yours, now.”

Star Swirl chuckled softly before working his big head further into the pillow, magician’s hat awkwardly perched so as to cover his bald spot. “I’ve got everything I need, I think. Now quit stalling.”

Stasis sighed, picked up the magazine, adjusted his position on the uncushioned chair, and lit his horn. He squinted down at the words – not because they were hard to read, but because they were just… hard.

“The results are shown in Fig. 8 where we plot survival vs. development for a series of constant m values. We see that –“

Star Swirl chuckled.

“–We see that in the range of M = 0 .2-0.55, survival depends entirely on the developmental stage of the specimen and is independent of the period of petrification. Only at M < 0.2 is the –“

“Oh. Oh, this is the best part!”

“–is the effect of premature development seen on the survival rate – exactly the same result as the control group. From this we can conclude that petrification should not, in fact, be classified as an illusion proper, but would be better classified as form of… of….”

“Transmutational.”

“…Transmutational magic with a complex temporal foundation and illusionary elements.”

Star Swirl sighed happily. “You know… I think I’m going to take the time to write those punks back at the Academy tomorrow and let them know what I found in my studies, back in the day. Point them in the right direction. That’s an effective use of my time off, eh, lad?”

Stasis shrugged and tilted the magazine around absently, trying to make sense of the images contained therein. He at least hoped that they could read something next that had real pictures, not these plot… diagram… things.

Star Swirl’s brow furrowed. After a few moments, he sighed. “What’s wrong, lad? You’ve not been acting yourself, these past few days.”

“Nothing,” Stasis said quickly. “Nothing’s wrong.” He lifted the magazine right away, trying to find his place. It was hard; the words and numbers had all sort of started to blur together, after awhile.

A large hoof reached out, pushing the magazine back down into his lap. Looking over, he saw Star Swirl looking back at him, one bushy eyebrow raised.

“…I don’t want to talk about it,” was all Stasis could think of to say.

“Is this about me taking a tumble down the stairs?” Star Swirl asked. “Look, lad… it was an accident. Did I tell you about the time I somehow managed to summon a rabid chupacabra in the middle of class lecture? These things happen.”

“It’s not that,” Stasis said, looking away. “I mean, I’m sorry that I wasn’t more careful, but it’s just… I-I can’t talk about it.”

The quiet continued for several stretched-out moments, Stasis refusing to looking over at Star Swirl, keeping his expression passive, trying to force down any stray emotions that would give him away. The curtains fluttered slightly in front of the open window.

“…I think I may have to go away soon,” Stasis said finally. A few more moments passed before he couldn’t wait anymore, and he glanced at Star Swirl out of the corner of his eye.

“Hmm,” was Star Swirl’s only response, any nuances in his expression hidden behind his massive beard. “Can you give me any hints as to why?”

Stasis looked at the magazine, trying to lose himself in the lines and charts as he spoke. “I’m about to get in a lot of trouble, even though I haven’t really done anything this time.”

His cheeks flushed with a spike of anger, and he pawed a bit at the magazine pages. If he’d actually done something wrong – if he’d stolen somepony’s identity, or hurt somepony, or used their love to control their mind and steal their strength – then maybe he could understand Pierce’s vendetta.

But he hadn’t. Barring a minor incident with Major – for which he’d been forgiven! – he’d done nothing worse than what he would have tried to get away with had he remained back with his own family.

As he scraped at the diagrams with one hoof, Stasis wished he had done something wrong to deserve this. He wished he’d done something wrong to Pierce.

“And you’re sure it’s nothing I can help you with?” asked Star Swirl, his tone somber.

“Yes,” Stasis replied evenly. Not without giving the Pierce the chance to expose me right in front of you.

“If you can’t talk to me about it… have you tried talking to your friends?” asked Star Swirl.

“…Friends?” Stasis asked, pausing his assault on the magazine and looking off into the distance. “You think I can use them as a weapon somehow?”

If anyone could figure out how to use friendship as a weapon, surely it was the ponies….

“Eh… that’s not quite what I meant,” Star Swirl replied, leaning a bit close on his bed. “But maybe they can help you with whatever problem it is you’re having. If you can’t tell them what it is, then maybe they can help you in other ways.”

“They can’t,” Stasis said flatly. “I’ve already thought about that. They’re not strong enough, or smart enough, or cunning enough. They can’t help me.”

Star Swirl laid a hoof on his shoulder. “Hey, now. Know how you’re not supposed to go grocery shopping on an empty stomach? You shouldn’t be making big life decisions on an empty heart, either. At least give them a chance to give you a little encouragement.”

“I guess,” Stasis muttered. He turned and looked out the window, at the moon slowly eclipsing stars in its path. “What time is it?”

“Eh….” Star Swirl looked out the window as well. “I reckon it’s getting near ten o’clock. Why do you ask?”

“I’m actually supposed to go meet them soon,” Stasis said, setting the magazine down gently on the nightstand.

“…At ten o’clock at night?” Star Swirl asked, frowning.

“We’re going stargazing,” was his reply. That’s what he’d told them to tell their parents, anyway.

“Hmm. Well, I suppose ol’ Star Swirl can’t disagree with a little star-gazing, now can he?” Star Swirl gave a thin smile.

Stasis stared back at his bearded caretaker. That was such a poor joke, it was mind-boggling. The little changeling’s mind was boggled.

Star Swirl’s smile slipped. “Eh….” He stretched his forelegs out wide. “Just… give me a hug, lad. Before you go.”

Stasis glanced down at those hug-ready forelegs, grey and bony and smelling faintly of mothballs, then up at Star Swirl. “…Are you sure?”

Star Swirl nodded.

Stasis walked up to Star Swirl, taking slow and deliberate steps. He reached out his own forelegs and wrapped them about the old pony’s neck, trying not to gouge Star Swirl with his horn as he took a face full of beard. A surprisingly powerful set of forelegs wrapped around his own small body, pinching his wings beneath his masque, holding him close.

“You’re a clever little thing, aren’t you?” Star Swirl said softly. “You’re going to be alright. I know that whatever you decide to do, you’re going to be alright.”

Letting go of each other, Stasis walked quickly away, giving Star Swirl a little wave as he closed the door behind him. Once outside, he stopped and let the cool wind ruffle through his mane, looking up and taking a deep breath of fresh air for the first time since the night before.

Turning, he broke into a brisk trot. He enjoyed the smells blown in from the distant Everfree, the pungent scents of foliage and decay mixing and brushing away the aroma of ponies and industry, if only for a moment. It reminded him of his old home in the forest, of his brothers and sisters, of the sound of them chittering away in Equestrian and the old tongue – such an odd language it seemed, now; of their smell, far simpler and more earthy; of the sight of them playing their simple little games and performing their simple little industry.

They were poor; he saw that now. By the standards of the ponies – by the standards of Equestria, at least – they were poor, and ignorant, and savage. Without roads, they had no means of trading the things they made with the other families; without writing, they had no means of passing on knowledge save by Mother’s memory; without agriculture, they had to spend all their time hunting or gathering or infiltrating the neighboring communities to steal enough energy to survive.

Why was this so? Why did ponies like Star Swirl live in great houses with things like plumbing and architecture – concepts that had seemed almost magical when Stasis first learned about them as a hatchling – but his siblings lived in hollow trees and holes in the ground? Were they not intelligent enough? Were they not creative enough? Was Stasis truly so far beyond them that he could grasp these concepts when he was just a little changeling, but they could not understand them as adults?

It couldn’t be his siblings fault, he decided. The ponies may think of them as mindless monsters like any other kind of creature to attack from the forest, but he knew how clever they were; he knew how hard they worked on every task to which they were assigned. Though they numbered only a few hundred, he was certain they could erect a city of their own in a fraction of the time it would take the ponies – and for no greater reward than Mother’s approval.

Was it Mother’s, then? The thought made him falter a bit, slow down to a walk, but he continued on.

…It couldn’t be Mother’s fault, he decided. Perhaps she didn’t hug, or kiss, or coddle like the ponies did – but even now, to Stasis those seemed like foolish ways to show affection. She never withheld her love from those of her children who were hungry; she never withheld punishment from those children who deserved it, not even Stasis; she never hesitated to fight when her underlings simply weren’t enough, like when the ursa attacked.

And had she not led the family here, once Stasis was old enough to make the journey? She must have heard the legends of Equestria’s incredible wealth and prosperity, and wanted that for her family, now that she finally had her son. There was no way she could have known how well-defended its perimeter, that the terrible pony god Celestia herself would defend even a border town with fire and light.

Mother would never have knowingly led her family to such destruction as this; the destitution of her race could not be her fault, or the fault of the other queens. Stasis knew how much Mother loved all of them, and how wise and cunning her rule.

But… there was one who should have known the folly of attacking Equestria directly. One who was said to have ruled a thousand years and more before the Sisters ever appeared and seized the heavens back from the mad god; one who probably remembered the days when the old Unicorn King raised the sun and the moon each day. One whose task it was to watch over his thousands upon thousands of children, and ensure that no part of his family should come in conflict with another, or the families of other athelings.

Stasis wondered if Father had warned Mother of what she was about to do, and she had ignored him… or if he had decided to let her learn from her mistakes, like a pony mother who let her child touch the stove. He wondered if Father was content to watch all the other races of the world, all the ‘prey,’ build their cities and their armies and spread across the whole earth uncontested, because he thought changelings had no need of such things… or because he truly did not care about his family at all.

It was all Father’s fault, Stasis decided. Father was a terrible father. He and all the other athelings had let the whole world pass them by; while true gods like Celestia and Luna forged the greatest nation-state in history, slowly expanding their reach across the whole world… the athelings slept through history like their supposed ancestral enemies, the dragons.

…And now Stasis was going to become just like them. If he returned to her now, what were the odds that Mother would ever let him get near a pony settlement again? And in a few short years, he would reach puberty, and Father would cast him and a few queens off to whatever desert or wasteland would pose the least competition to the established athelings.

Even if somehow Stasis could then find a way to gain the knowledge and power of the ponies… to grasp history, and science, and mathematics, and politics; to become a master magician, like Star Swirl; to learn how to beat the ponies at all their own games. Even if he could do all that, even if he could become as great as Mother seemed to think he would… he would never get to see any of the ponies here in Trottingham ever again.

Most of them, he probably wouldn’t miss much. Ponies like Mr. Strudel and the other shop owners, or the teachers and staff at the school, or the other students at the school, or… well, pretty much any pony Major had ever introduced him to, were all pretty boring. Ponies like Jack were just weird and made Stasis uncomfortable. Ponies like old Codger deserved to have every ounce of their love sucked dry, but never would, because they had no love.

But now Stasis had this freaky little triumvirate of ponies who weren’t terribly boring, and who were only weird in ways that Stasis liked, and who he hardly hated at all. Stasis missed his family, and figured he must love them too, but he would rather share with them his own strength than let them feed on this unnatural little pseudo-family he had here in Equestria.

…There was a duo of unicorn guards coming towards him now. Stasis shunted his thoughts aside and lowered his head, keeping his eyes on the cobblestones beneath his hooves. The guard seemed to have stopped their random testing of passers-by, but they hadn’t left the town entirely. He wondered if they would be the ones to capture him when Pierce revealed what he was.

The houses had thinned almost to nothing now; he could see the Everfree, a dark mass hugging the horizon. The area between was sensibly wild, with long, uncut grass and trees sprouting up here and there, bits of nature trying to encroach on the world the ponies had crafted for themselves.

He turned and saw two shapes huddled across the street, brightening and darkening as clouds passed across the moon. He pulsed magic through his horn, sending flickers of light at them.

“Hey, Stasis! Is that you?” Major said, trotting over.

“We’re not really going stargazing, are we?” asked Goldie, her tail swishing irritably. “Because, I wanted to go stargazing, but since that’s what we’re supposed to be doing, I’m sure we won’t be.”

“I’m sorry, guys,” Stasis said, looking out towards the forest. “I guess I just wanted to see my friend and… um… you, Goldie.”

“On the edge of town? At night?” asked Major.

“Are you going to rob us?” asked Goldie, her eyes narrowed.

“No!” denied Stasis. “It’s just… I don’t think I should go around in the daytime anymore. I don’t want the guard or constabulary or anypony else to see me. It’s not safe.”

“I knew it!” Goldie exclaimed suddenly, startling him. “You’re on the run, aren’t you?”

Stasis frowned. “What?”

“Um….” Major scratched the back of his neck, looking shifty. “Goldie has an idea that maybe you’re not an orphan, but actually you’re a bad guy who broke out of jail and is wanted by the guard.”

“It explains a whole lot of things,” Goldie reasoned, jabbing him in the chest with one hoof. “You’d better fess up, mister! Star Swirl may have decided to take you in, but Major and me are still on the fence.”

“We can be friends even if you are on the run, though,” Major assured him. “Goldie thinks we can’t, but I like that old saying, ‘friendship conquers all.’”

“What made you think I was a criminal?” Stasis asked, feeling huffy. “I don’t think there’s a single thing I’ve done that the guard knows about.”

“Well, then, why are you staying inside so much?” Goldie said, getting in his face a little. “And why did you ask us to meet you out here in the middle of the night? And why don’t you want to be seen by the guard or anypony? Only bad ponies need to fear the law!”

“It’s okay to be a little afraid, though,” said Major.

“I was getting to all that!” Stasis said, pushing her away. “Anyway, I’m having a really tough time right now, and you should learn to be more sympathetic.”

“I’m sympathetic, Stasis,” said Major, coming around and patting him on the back. “So is Goldie! She just doesn’t know how to show it very well.”

“You’re having a tough time with what, though?” said Goldie, dragging one hoof down her cheek in exasperation. “I know you’ve been really quiet ever since Star Swirl got hurt, but I don’t want you to lie this time, or, or, not tell us anything like you usually do! Don’t be tricky!”

“Friends don’t trick friends, Stasis,” said Major.

Stasis’ jaw clenched, and he turned away. “Well, I was going to tell all, but now I don’t think I want to anymore. You’re both so suspicious all the time; you don’t trust me at all. I don’t see why you care so much anyway.”

“We’re your friends, Stasis! Of course we care!” declared Major, who seemed to unconsciously strike a valiant pose.

“It’d be nice if we knew what we were caring about, though,” said Goldie with a little eye roll. “Sometimes, you’re like a mystery wrapped in… um… no, sandwiched between two slices of riddle, and… um… when you take a sniff of it at lunchtime, you decide to trade it with somepony else. ”

“Goldie!” gasped Major. “…You do that?”

“Only when I don’t know what’s in the sandwich!” she said, ears flat against her head. “And I’d only trade it with some stupid jerk, like Stasis.”

Stasis felt the conversation rapidly spiraling out of control. It was time to take back the reigns from these crazy ponies.

“Look, guys,” he said. “I am… kind of sorry that I’ve maybe, possibly been… a bit less forthright than I potentially could have been… I guess.”

“What?” asked Major.

“That’s the best you’re going to get,” he warned, shaking his hoof at them both. “And I’m not saying it again, either.”

“Why did you even bring us out here, anyway?” asked Goldie, shivering. “It’s cold, and dark, and scary, and… oh.”

He looked out towards the forest again, and shrugged. “I guess it just reminds me of my old home, and… I might be going back soon.”

Goldie gasped, and Major almost managed to stumble back from a sitting position as he asked, “What? Why?”

“Is… is it because of what happened on the stairs?” asked Goldie, looking slightly haunted. “Because I can talk to Mr. Swirl, and –“

Stasis felt a tightening in his chest, and he waved his hooves dismissively. “No, no, not… that. I mean… why would you think that I’d have to leave? Who’s been out to get me ever since I moved to this town? Who’s been a thorn in my side since the very beginning? Besides you, Goldie.”

“Is it… Abra?” Major posited tentatively.

“Pierce?” Goldie suggested, sounding skeptical.

“Both,” Stasis affirmed. “My greatest enemies have teamed up against me, to paint me in a most hideous light!” He felt the energy seep out of him, and slumped a bit. “I don’t know when or where, but one of these days, Pierce and Abra are going to use a spell to make me look like a dreaded, monstrous changeling. And I’ll be dragged off, and….”

He paused for a moment and quelled some particularly vibrant memories. “…And you’ve seen what they do with those around here. If I didn’t have holes before, I’ll certainly have some by the time those guards are through with me!”

“But….” Goldie shook her head. “But… I just can’t believe that Pierce would do something so terrible! I mean… I know he’s gotten into fights and things with bullies before, but he’s never really done anything bad.”

“Not Abra, either,” said Major, looking troubled. “She would never do something wrong; I’m sure of it.”

“Yeah, well, you can tell him what a great big hero he is when I’m dragged off in chains,” Stasis grumbled. “He can be your replacement-Stasis. I’m sure you’ll be very happy together.”

“You’re not really going to go back to… wherever you came from, though, right?” asked Major. “I don’t think the ponies there could miss you as much as we would miss you.”

“And what about Mr. Swirl?” added Goldie, tail swishing in agitation. “He would be so lonely!”

“What do you want me to do about it?” Stasis rejoined. “I’m not going to prison for you guys! And I can’t take on Pierce alone; he’s too powerful!”

“We could help, though!” said Major, wearing his most triumphant smile.

“How, though? How can you help?” asked Stasis. “I can’t think of a single plan that doesn’t involve beating somepony up, or foalnapping, or prevaricating all over the place. These aren’t things that ponies are good at! Other than me, I mean.”

“Have you asked Mr. Swirl to help?” asked Major.

Stasis made slashing motions with his hooves. “No! Never! He couldn’t possibly understand!” He gave them both a serious look. “You guys can’t tell him, either. This isn’t an old geezer problem; this is a Stasis problem.”

“We’re your friends, Stasis!” Goldie said, eyes narrowed. “You can’t just… leave us! I’ll make Major sit on you first!”

Major stared at Stasis’ horn fearfully.

“You need to let us help, Stasis!” she continued. “You need to let us help, or I’ll tell Star Swirl everything.”

“Everything?” It was Stasis’ turn to narrow his eyes. “You don’t even know all that much, do you, Goldie? You’re bluffing!”

“I bet I know more than you think I do!” she replied, glaring back. She was a good glarer. “I know ponies call me a tattle-tale a lot, but I don’t always tell what I know. Sometimes, I save things.”

“…Could we help him nicer, though?” said Major from the sidelines. “This doesn’t feel like helping.”

The glaring contest continued for a few moments longer before, to his shame, Stasis broke first. He looked towards the forest one more time and blinked.

“…It’s not like I want to go,” he said, his throat hurting a little. “I don’t want to go. I like being taught everything there is to know by someone who actually likes me; I like having friends who like me and want to play with me instead of just….” He gestured with his hooves, struggling to think of what he was trying to say.

“It’s okay, Stasis,” Major said, draping his foreleg over Stasis’ shoulders in a half-hug. “You’re the best friend I’ve ever had, and I like you a lot. You’re really smart, almost as smart as Star Swirl; you’re a great friend, and very loyal, and you like to laugh a lot, even if your laugh is kind of scary sometimes, and, um… you’re a lot kinder and honester and more generous than you used to be! Isn’t that right, Goldie?”

Goldie hesitated for a few moments before slowly walking around to his other side, and lightly putting her hoof around his back as well.

“Well… you’re really brave, too,” she said finally, “maybe even braver than Major and me. I don’t think you should run away when you’ve got both of us here to help. I know you can figure out a way to beat Pierce.”

“I can’t,” he said, shaking his head. “I don’t even know what exactly his plan is yet. How can I beat that? I can’t! I can’t beat him!”

“We’ll beat him together!” Goldie said, vengefully shaking her hoof in a way that seemed very familiar to the little changeling. “We’ll… we’ll go in front of the whole town and tell them that you’re not a monster at all!”

“…In front of the whole town?” Stasis asked, his mental gears beginning to creak and groan as they came to life.

“Yeah!” Major said excitedly. “We can do it at the play next week! I know you missed some rehearsals, Stasis, but this is more important. We’ll tell everypony what a good pony you are!”

“…Right,” Stasis replied absently.

He could feel the ponies’ forelegs wrapped around him still, hear them talking in his ear. His friends.

He missed Mother; his chest would ache sometimes when he thought of her. But he didn’t want to go back; he didn’t want to give up his friends’ encouragement for his siblings’ tolerance, or Star Swirl’s bushy swirliness for Father’s distant judgment. He felt like he could be so much more if he stayed here amongst the ponies for a while rather than living out his life the way he was supposed to.

And the one pony standing in the way of that was Pierce. He was sure he’d figured out Pierce’s plan; now he just needed one of his own.

The Prince of Quislings

The first thing Stasis noticed as he looked down upon the main theater hall below was just how clean everything was. Gone were the small bits of trash and detritus that had built up over years of near-neglect; the plank walls, varnish or paint long since faded, had obviously been scrubbed and magicked clean; as the little changeling opened his nostrils wide and took a deep breath, even the air itself seemed fresh and purified of mildew and decay.

Ponies filed through the double-doors into the now-clean main hall, murmuring to each other, their pastels muted in the theater’s dim light. Stasis spotted the Strudels, Mr. Strudel wearing a surprisingly not-pastry-themed tuxedo while his wife had adorned a simple black dress and croissant earrings.

There was Crimson, wearing a dress so sheer it was almost invisible save for the pink, yellow, and orange flowers that dotted it, making them look as if they were resting on a sheet of flame. She was talking to fillies on either side of her while using her wings to wave at other ponies that passed by, almost aggressively gregarious.

There was Miss Bright from school, the golden highlights in her yellow dress making it seem to shimmer about her. She was whispering with a metallic-grey older unicorn Stasis didn’t recognize; as he watched, the stallion turned and met his eyes, and Stasis quickly ducked back behind the scaffolding.

When he peeked back over the edge, he saw Principal Principle, the old stallion ignoring the ponies around him as he made his way to the front and took his seat, sitting rigid as he looked off into space, seemingly lost in reflection.

There was another pony Stasis didn’t recognize, a hulking blue earth pony covered in muscle and fat. Another older mare was leaned up against him, supporting him as he struggled to descend the stairs to the front, and Stasis saw that his hindquarters were held in some kind of brace with a pair of wheels underneath.

“That’s Pierce’s dad, Big Blue.”

Stasis jumped, his heart doing something that felt very unhealthy in his chest. After a few moments he managed to wheeze out, “I know, Major.”

The orange pony looked over the edge of the scaffold. “You know, he used to be the Chief Constable of Trottingham! That was back before –“

“I know, Major. I already know all about that!” Stasis said, his face flushing angrily.

“Oh.” Major blinked. “I’m sorry.”

Stasis tried to push that out of his mind before peeking at the many, many ponies below them. “What do you want, Major?”

“Um… Mr. Jack was wondering where you were. The play’s about to start.”

Major must have seen something in Stasis’ expression, because he promptly scooped the little changeling into a hug. “You don’t need to be worried, Stasis! We don’t get introduced until later!”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about! You’re crazy,” Stasis said, spitting orange hair out of his mouth as he pushed away. “I’m not worried about some stupid play! This play should be worried about me.”

“Alright.” Major looked down at the crowd below. “Hey, is Star Swirl going to be here? I bet he’d love to see this play! It’s got good magic and evil magic and special effects magic and everything!”

Stasis looked away. “No, um… he’s still not up to leaving the house just yet.” And the little changeling had insisted that he stay home. No matter how things turned out that night, he didn’t think he could get through it all with the old wizard there just watching him.

“Oh. Okay. Well, let’s go!” Major said, leading the way back down to backstage.

Back behind the heavy red curtain, pony children milled about, whispering loudly and bumping into each other as they put the finishing touches on their costumes and props, their emotions a heady mix of fear and exhilaration that did nothing to quell the little changeling’s own beating heart.

“Where’s Goldie?” he asked, trying to spot her in the crowd.

“She’s trying to put on all her regalia. Hey! I’ll go see if she needs help!” Major said, trotting away toward the other end of the stage.

“But!...” Stasis began, but Major was already lost to sight. He shifted uncomfortably on his hooves, wondering if he should go help too, or if he should put on his own evil sorcerer’s costume, or if he should just… stand there.

“There you are, young thespian!” called out Jack, fillies and colts parting before the earth pony’s slow, plodding steps.

Stasis stared. Just as the theater itself had undergone an impressive makeover, so, too, had its owner. The stallion’s black mane and tail had lost their greasy, tangled look, brushed straight and shining. He wore a new suit, simple and brown, and – perhaps most wondrous of all – Stasis could smell no hint of the director’s omnipresent weed. If it hadn’t been for his gaunt frame and passive expression, Stasis might not have recognized him at all.

Jack paused before the little changeling, looking down at him. And looking down at him. The silence began to grow uncomfortable.

“…Yeah?” Stasis finally asked. He was struggling to understand how a pony’s expression could be so blank and yet so intense at the same time.

Jack’s emotionless eyes somehow bored into his as he spoke. “This is it, young thespian. The climax of our grand little endeavor. The height of our schemes. That moment when we cry out to the heavens, begging that, for one single, solitary night, we should be spared the harsh vicissitudes of reality. Wishing that, for one night, our hard work might be rewarded; our plans might come to pass; our struggles might not have been in vain. That our brittle dreams might, for one night, be spared the cold hammer of disaster and malfeasance.”

He took a step forward, and Stasis took a step back. “We stand on a precipice, young thespian. On one side lies a smidgen of success; an ounce of absolution. The hope that, one day, perhaps, we shall have the chance to perform a play of true worth; a piece of true art, with actors of venerable skill and boundless passion. A desire without foundation, yes, but one to strive for, to be grasped with tooth and tail.”

Another step forward, and Stasis found his back to the curtain, Jack standing impassive before him. “And on the other side of that dread precipice, young thespian? On the other side lies a long, despairing fall into the stifling mediocrity that is our lives. Of days spent wandering these empty halls, wondering how it all came to this.”

He leaned down. “Wondering why, at the crux of it all, children, the beloved future of our race, could not be counted upon to stop, to think, to remember, to act, and above all, to focus. Not on the frenzies of their imagination, but on the here and now. That we might all benefit. That we might all bask, for one, glorious night, in the cheering applause of an enlightened audience.”

…It took a few moments for Stasis to realize that Jack was done. The little changeling blinked, then nodded slowly.

“…Okay,” he confirmed.

Seemingly satisfied, Jack moved on. Looking back at the way he had come, Stasis noted a number of fillies and colts stumbling about, seemingly in a daze.

It was then that Major, wearing his hideous and hunched minion costume, broke through the crowd. Goldie was right behind him, sporting a frilly pink dress, a necklace of daisies about her neck, and a tall, conical hat upon her head. She also had a white belt and sword about her waist and a buckler tied around one foreleg. It was all very well color-coordinated.

“…What are you supposed to be, again?” Stasis asked. He’d heard it many times by now, but he felt like he really, really needed to hear it again.

“I’m Princess Rosenthorn, seventh daughter of the seventh daughter of the high king and chosen protector of the realm,” Goldie recited, her eyes narrowed, daring him to make something of it.

“…Okay,” was all that the little changeling could think of to say.

Major looked around, then leaned down close, his unpatched eye looking into Stasis’ with concern.

“Hey… if you don’t feel like you can do it, Stasis… if you don’t feel ready, we can do this some other time, can’t we? I can let Mr. Jack know you’re not feeling well, and we can –“

“No,” Stasis interrupted quickly. “Who knows when else Pierce is going to try to use his spell on me? I can’t risk him doing it in the middle of the street, or in class or something; not if I ever want to leave my house again. And when else am I going to get a chance to carry out my plan?”

He shook his head with more confidence than he felt. “No, Major. It has to be tonight. I won’t let him push me out; as long as we follow my plan exactly, we can defeat Pierce for good!”

He paused. “Or… for bad? I’m not sure.”

Major and Goldie looked at each other. “Are you sure you can really do this spell, Stasis?” asked Goldie skeptically. “It sounded hard.”

“It’s not hard at all!” Stasis protested. “Remember how I walked through walls that one time? That was way harder than this.”

“How long did it take you to learn how to walk through walls, though?” Goldie asked, one eyebrow arched imperiously.

“That’s… that’s not important, Goldie!” he said. “Abra’s only had a few weeks to master her make-me-look-like-a-horrible-changeling spell; if she can do that, then of course a vastly superior magician like myself can master my spell in just a few days!”

“Abra’s special talent is magic, though,” pointed out Major. “She’s also twice as old as you.”

“Whose side are you guys on, anyway?” Stasis demanded to know. “Remember those life-sized ponnequins I made of you two? I practiced so hard on those! I practiced ‘til they melted!” Technically, he’d only made one of them catch fire. But still.

Major swallowed, and Goldie’s voice wavered as she said, “I didn’t like the idea of you casting that spell on us before. Now I really don’t like it.”

He shook his head. “There’s no other way, Goldie! If I fail here, I’ll get captured for sure! I’ll get thrown into a dungeon somewhere, or turned into a statue, or, or blasted with the Elements of Harmony or something!”

Major looked thoughtful. “I bet Princess Celestia would give you a trial, though, even if she thought you were a monster. If it’s a really big trial, she might even be the judge! You could get judged by Princess Celestia, Stasis!”

Stasis’ mind filled with fantasies of fire and light. Lots and lots of fire. “Um… maybe not Celestia? Maybe… maybe the other one?”

Major looked around before leaning down and whispering, “I don’t think you want to be judged by Princess Luna, Stasis. I’ve heard that she’s not nearly as nice as Princess Celestia.”

Stasis felt himself begin to shrink down a bit as he stared off into the distance. “I… ah… um….”

“No!” Goldie said, stomping her hoof. “There’s not going to be any judging today! Is there, Major?”

“There’s not?” Major asked, looking at her quizzically.

“No!” she cried, head held high. “Because we’re going to go out there, and, and Stasis’ spell is going to work, and, um… and we’re going to teach Pierce what happens when he bullies one of our friends! Isn’t that right, Major?”

“Right!” Major said, doing his best to scowl.

“Friends?” Stasis asked quietly.

Goldie glared down at the slightly-cowering little changeling, daring him to make something of it.

“Right. Um….” He stood up, trying to recover his usual aura of self-confidence and authority. “Right! We’ll go out there, and we’ll crush our enemies under the weight of our friendship! Destroy them with unity, beat them with our common accord! Solidarity will be our scourge; rapport, their ruin! They’ll be begging for rainbows by the time we’re done… with….”

Seeing Major’s expression, Stasis quickly backpedaled. “Except for Abra, of course! Her, we’ll just… um… tousle a bit, I guess.”

“Prepare yourselves, children!” Jack’s voice called out. “Our time of reckoning is upon us!”

Stasis ran his tongue along his masqued teeth, imagining the fangs that he knew lied underneath. He shook a little, feeling his wings and backplate beneath the disguise.

Maybe Pierce was intelligent, and resourceful, and determined beyond all reason to bring Stasis to justice. Maybe the earth pony was bigger, and stronger, and about a thousand times more resilient than his little changeling counterpart. Maybe Pierce was in his own hometown, in his own country, surrounded on all sides by members of his own species who would gladly turn on the helpless philophage in an instant, surrendering him to their monstrous god-rulers to be cremated, or obliterated, or both.

…But! Stasis was a changeling – the alpha predators, the top of the pyramid, the first link in the chain! Other species dreamed of being as beautiful and chitinous and well-aerated as he! He was a prince, an atheling – so far above these mortal ponies, he was practically a celestial body himself! There would have to be a third princess, just to keep him reigned in!

He just had to remember that. He just had to remember that, no matter how bad things looked, he was the true terror here. He was the one Pierce should be afraid of, not the other way around.

…And, he had these pony friends here to help him, too. He was the most-allied little changeling he could possibly be.

“Are you ready, Stasis? The play’s about to start!” Major shouted in excitement.

“I am!” Stasis rejoined, mustering as much confidence as he could. “I am ready!... are you ready, Goldie?”

Goldie gripped the strap to her hennin in her teeth, pulling it tight. There was steel in her pink eyes as she looked back at Stasis, and nodded.

* * *

The crowd quieted as the lights were slowly dimmed. At once, several unicorns on the catwalks above shone their horns like spotlights, illuminating a lone filly standing at center stage.

Though Stasis could sense her fear, her nervousness, she held an expression of confidence as she began to monologue, acoustics carrying her voice even to the very rear of the theater.

“Once upon a time,” she said, “in the magical land of Equindor, there was born a unicorn, prince and son of the king. He was tall, and strong, and very, very handsome. Upon his father’s death, he asc… ascen….”

“Ascended!” came a harsh whisper from stage right.

“…Ascended to the throne, and together with his beautiful wife, they had one heir, a son. And everypony lived happily ever after.”

The filly paused, looking down at the floor, adopting a serene pose. The light began to change, casting her in dire shades of red and pink. The audience leaned forward, eager to hear her next words.

“…At least, it would have, but before he died, the old king had another son!” she cried, looking at the audience in fury, as if it was all their fault.

“For all that his brother was tall, this one was short! For all that his brother was handsome, this one was ugly! And for all that his brother was good, this one was born very, very evil. Where most unicorns first learned to cast light, he summoned darkness! Where most ponies first spoke ‘mama’ or ‘dada,’ he cried ‘me!’”

The filly’s anger dissipated, and her voice took on a mournful, resigned quality as she continued.

“The elder brother, a kind and trusting stallion, ignored the signs of his younger sibling’s true, twisted nature. ‘Black magic?’ he would scoff. ‘As fine a color as any other! We don’t judge magic based on its color in my kingdom!’

“‘A dark tower?’ he would snort. ‘That’s my brother! Putting the architects and masons of our fair land to work!’

“’An undead army?’ he would laugh. ‘Ha! Let those dastardly meat-eating gryphons chew on that!”

Distant sounds of battle came from backstage, steel clanging against steel and heroic battle cries mixing with the grunts and growls of the undead. The spotlights began to grow dimmer and dimmer as ponies prepared for the next scene.

“After the coup,” the filly continued, “the wicked younger brother searched far and wide for his infant nephew, the true heir to the throne. Little did he know that the prince had been rescued by his great-uncle and taken far out to the edges of the kingdom, to be raised as a simple farmer boy, having no knowledge of his true ancestry and birthright.

“This is where our story begins, on that fateful day, when the forces of the false-king first descended on that simple farming community, and our hero must first take up his sword so that he may eventually take up the crown….”

…The play seemed to pass in something of a blur to the little changeling. Pierce mourned the death of his great-uncle, took up his father’s magic sword, and started hacking zombies to bits. He traversed the land, leaving death and devastation in his wake, but it was okay, because he mostly killed zombies, or monsters, or obviously evil ponies, and when he killed anything else he just felt really bad about it afterwards.

…Except he didn’t truly feel bad it about it; not at all. As Pierce slashed at his rotting nemeses, Stasis sensed nothing from the azure earth pony; as he bashed in the heads of hydras and manticores, there was almost a sense of boredom and frustration from the older colt.

But when he uncovered the vile traitor in his midst, with black-painted fur and diaphanous wings strapped to its back, Stasis could almost taste Pierce’s grim satisfaction as he sliced off its wings with his sword and cast it, hissing and screeching, into the bubbling lake of lava-colored tomato juice below.

Of course, maybe it wasn’t vanquishing the fauxling that made Pierce so happy. Maybe it was the applause.

When it was Stasis’ turn to enter the limelight, to throw on his darkling cloak and deathly pallor, to finally let his inner wickedry shine through for all to see… he did his best. He cackled, he gloated, he talked and talked until his enemies finally took the hint and escaped. But his heart wasn’t really in it.

All he could see was his true enemy, standing just out of the view of the audience, his emotions under almost frightening control as he watched the little changeling with an unblinking gaze.

But every time he felt like this was all a terrible, horrible idea, the worst scheme he’d ever had – just when he felt like it was time for “plan B: the Everfree!” – he’d get a friendly nudge from behind, or a ridiculous smile from the side, or his orange minion would simply lose control as he seized him in a most un-rehearsed bear-hug and shouted his support for his dark lord to the rafters.

And then the Princess Rosenthorn took to the stage, and Stasis began to wonder if perhaps he – if they, all three of them – might somehow prevail after all. Though a (very) distant relation of the hero as well as being one of the designated love interests, Pierce’s advances were met with nothing but scorn, scowls, and, on one occasion, a bite. Though she laid waste to the corpses and monsters with the rest of the party, attempts to slay even the foulest of necromancers and dragons was met with glares of such intensity, such force, that had Pierce not soldiered forward and done the deed himself, the play would surely have ground to a halt right then and there.

Her unscripted verbal putdowns and attempts to off-balance, stumble, or simply trip Pierce, both surreptitiously and not, began to get titters and stifled guffaws from the audience.

That’s it! Stasis cried out in silent encouragement. That’s the way! Hearts and minds, Goldie! Hearts and minds!

…And then it was time. All of the wicked king’s lieutenants had fallen; all his schemes had torn apart. The protagonists had made it to the highest room in the darkest tower, where Stasis waited upon his throne. His throne carefully crafted from the skulls of all the other heroes who had made it this far.

He slowly opened his eyes. Before him was all that remained of the great hero’s party, all that managed to reach the top of his mighty tower unscathed: one princess, tassels dripping with the ichor of the damned as she nodded her silent encouragement. One redeemed zebra witch, her subplot so poor that Stasis had almost forgotten her entirely. And one prince, peasant’s outfit in tatters, sword ready at his side, expression as determined and unflinching as Stasis’ own.

“…We finally meet,” Stasis said, his lips slowly curling upwards in a Cheshire grin.

“Uncle,” Pierce said, taking a step forward. “Traitor. Monster. Since taking the throne, you’ve inundated the land in your darkness and deceits. All the travesties of our nation lie at your hooves, my ‘king.’”

“Bwahahahahahaha!” was the only appropriate response.

Pierce’s face darkened. “You think this is a game? You think you can just do as you please – that justice won’t find you?”

“Oh, please. Everything’s just so much more exciting with me around! And if I’ve damaged a few things, well… what’s a few scratches here and there?” Stasis buffed a scratch from a skull with the edge of his cloak, leading by example.

“And my great-uncle? My father? What about those, ‘Your Grace?’ What about those scratches? How are you going to buff out those?” Pierce asked, emanating genuine anger now.

“That was the zombies’ fault, not mine!” Stasis cried in indignation. “I may be a dark lord of evil, but you can’t blame me for every little thing!”

Abra strode forward, the zebra glyphs and markings on her face seeming to glow as she said, “Why not? You’ve lied, you’ve stole, you’ve bullied! You’ve tormented us… tried to ruin our lives! The only person in the whole world you care about is yourself. Even if you were born just a regular pony, you’d still. Be. Evil!”

Stasis sat up straight in his seat. “That… that is not true!” he cried. “I mean, the evil part is true. But look!”

He pointed at the oblivious Major, whose brow was furrowed in thought, probably trying to figure out where the script had disappeared to.

“That dinky pony is my friend!” he boasted. “Ha! I do care about other ponies sometimes! When it’s convenient.”

She sneered at him, the anger and disgust almost palpable. “You can’t be both evil and caring, you little pest! That’s impossible!”

Stasis took out his double-ended flail with his magic, holding it in front of him like a shield. “You – you shouldn’t underestimate me, you witch! I can love the whole world and hate it at the same time, if I want to! There’s nothing I can’t do!”

Abra looked about to retort, but Pierce held a hoof in front of her… and then his eyes met Stasis’ own. His expression tightened, and the little changeling could feel Pierce’s carefully controlled anger begin to rise.

“You know what I’m here for, don’t you?” Pierce said, his cobalt eyes almost mesmerizing in their intensity. “Yet here you are, waiting for me. You have a plan of your own, then. Another of your little schemes. Are you still that arrogant?”

Stasis’ mouth worked silently for a moment. “I –“

“I’m not going to ask you to apologize for what you’ve done – for what your ‘zombies’ have done. But neither am I going to sit idly by and let you do to my people what you did to my father!”

Pierce grabbed his wooden sword from its sheath with his mouth and glared at Stasis, his enunciation somehow still almost perfect as he said, “I’m not like you, though. I don’t enjoy hurting others – not even monsters. So I’m going to give you one opportunity, once chance to get out before I put your fate in the hooves of a higher power!”

Stasis’ heart beat wildly in his chest as he began to twirl his flail faster and faster in the air. “Never!” he snarled. “You think you’re some mighty hero? You’re not! You’re nothing! I’m practically a god compared to you, you… stupid punk!”

Pierce turned to look at Abra. “Abra! I’ll hold him. Get ready to –“

“BETRAYAL!” cried Goldie, swatting Abra hard on the backside with her sword.

“Aiiiiieeee!” Abra shrieked, jumping forward several steps and turning towards her attacker. “What are you doing, Goldie? That’s not in the – ouch! Jack! Jack! Tell her to stop!”

A long, trembling, resigned moan came from stage right. The crowd began to mutter.

Pierce eyed Goldie with narrowed eyes, then whipped back around toward Stasis, genuine rage crossing his features as he shouted, “What have you done to her, you monster? Let her go!”

“Is this town not big enough for both of us, Pierce?” Stasis snarled, his flail swirling ever faster. “Is that the way it is? Is it you or me?” He raised his weapon on high, tensing his haunches.

“Then I. Choose. ME!”

Stasis leapt from the edge of the throne as he sent the flail twirling at Pierce as fast he could.

Pierce was faster, snapping his sword across the center chain, causing it to wrap and snap against the blade rather than his face. But the blow knocked him back, and when Stasis barreled into his front legs, he fell to his knees.

Stasis didn’t waste a moment, gripping Pierce’s mane in his teeth as he swung himself atop the earth pony’s back.

“Giddyup, you fool!” Stasis cackled, kicking his hind legs against Pierce’s flanks as he gripped both their weapons in his magic, yanking them about like a bit, twisting Pierce’s head to the side.

“Get off of me!” Pierce shouted around his sword, bucking hard, nearly sending Stasis flying as he slowly twisted his head back, that infuriating earth pony strength overcoming the atheling’s powerful magic.

Stasis only snarled in response as he jumped forward, gripping Pierce’s neck tightly in his forehooves as he blasted light as hard as he could directly into Pierce’s eyes.

Pierce swore loudly, leading members of the audience to gasp as he thrashed and bucked wildly, causing Stasis to screech as he gripped Pierce with hooves, teeth, and even wrapped his magic around the earth pony’s slippery aura, levitating them both together as hard as he could.

“Pierce! Pierce, you moron!” Abra shouted from behind her wall of levitated books, trying to keep them between her and her adversary as Goldie searched for an opening. “He’s six years old! He’s half your size! What are you doing?”

Pierce stopped abruptly, eyes still clenched shut in pain, his sides heaving. Before Stasis could twist the weapons with his magic again, Pierce dropped and rolled.

“Aaaaaaah!” Stasis cried as he leapt from Pierce’s back at the last second, hitting the floor and scrambling away to keep from getting crushed under the larger pony.

As he seized his weapon in his magic and got to his hooves, Stasis turned and saw Pierce standing there, his mane already starting to stick to his neck with sweat, his watery eyes open and blazing.

Pierce dropped his sword to the floor with a clatter, and lowered his head.

“No. No, Pierce! Get away!” Stasis cried, as he began to flee.

“You can’t run this time!” Pierce shouted, galloping toward stage right, going much faster than Stasis remembered from the last time they fought, beating him there.

As Stasis began to turn around, Pierce shouted, “Abra! Block the other exit!”

Seeing Abra positioning herself before stage left, Stasis turned back around, twirling his flail in front of him defensively.

“Hey? Hey, guys?” Major said from the sidelines, looking lost. “Remember: this is all just pretend! You guys need to be careful! Somepony could get really hurt!”

Pierce began to walk toward the little changeling, his expression not looking ‘pretend’ at all.

“He’s… he’s right!” Stasis cried, spinning the flail about as fast he could. “Stay back, Pierce, or I will hurt you with this thing! It’s not a toy!”

Pierce broke into a trot.

Stasis flung the flail at Pierce with all the force he could muster.

The wooden flail struck him head-on, one end snapping against his neck while the other end struck him full on the mouth, a trickle of blood leaking down his chin. Pierce didn’t seem to notice.

With a cry of fear, Stasis turned and made a dash towards the audience, every member of which was staring at him with confusion and concern.

He hadn’t gotten more than a few steps before he felt a searing pain as his tail was yanked back with enough force to send him sprawling on his belly. He was roughly flipped over, Pierce glaring down at him.

A droplet of blood fell from Pierce’s chin onto Stasis’.

“No! Leave my friend alone!” Major yelled as he shoved Pierce away, toward the edge.

“Major, no!” Stasis cried.

But it was too late. Major may have been only a year or two younger than Pierce, and nearly as large, but there was a vast difference between the two, not the least of which was fighting prowess. In a matter of moments, Pierce had gripped Major’s shoulders and used his own momentum to send him stumbling away from Stasis.

Towards the edge of the stage.

“Major!” cried out Stasis, and Goldie, and Abra. And much of the audience.

Major’s eyes met Stasis’, hooves teetering on the edge as he opened his mouth as if to speak.

He fell to the ground below with a dull ‘thud.’

“…Ow…” came a pained groan as the audience broke out in a multitude of voices calling, grumbling, and yelling; Major’s parents and a few others rushed down to him as others hurried around the edges of the theater, apparently headed for backstage.

“How dare you!” Stasis shouted, seizing his flail with his magic.

“Abra!” Pierce snapped. “We’re out of time! Get –“

The flail snapped against Pierce’s hind legs, and Stasis heaved.

Pierce grunted as it was his turn to be yanked backwards onto his belly.

But Stasis wouldn’t stop there, oh no. He poured as much energy and rage as he could into the flail, dragging the stupid, worthless earth pony towards the edge of the stage.

“You just can’t leave things alone, can you, Pierce?” Stasis yelled. “You horrible, useless pony! You can’t let me have two seconds to just… just enjoy being here!”

He walked slowly towards Pierce, Pierce’s hooves scrabbling against the plank floor, trying to find purchase as his hind legs were slowly pulled off the edge.

“And now you hurt my friend? My friend?” Stasis said, his voice much lower. “Well. If you’re going to treat me like some kind of monster, then I guess you can’t complain too much when I act like one, can you?”

He lifted one forehoof, aiming it at Pierce’s own. Then he shifted it slowly to point towards Pierce’s stony, glaring face.

The little changeling grinned.

“Stasis! Watch out!” cried Goldie from behind him.

Stasis turned. He caught a glimpse of Abra’s face, sweaty, triumphant, as she touched him with her horn.

For a second, there was nothing. He almost sighed in relief.

…Then he was on the ground for some reason, and there was a lot of screaming and yelling, and he felt really, truly terrible. Also, Goldie was in his face for some reason. Her fear made him feel nauseous.

“Stasis!” she shouted, shaking him roughly with the tips of her hooves, as if she didn’t really want to touch him. “Stasis, you’ve got to cast your spell! Quick!”

Rather than groaning like he wanted to, Stasis managed a “Wha?” as he lifted his head and tried to get his eyes to focus on the crowd.

“Changelings! Changelings! They’re invading!” cried one hysterical mare.

“What is the meaning of this?” yelled one important-ish looking stallion. “Jack! Jack, if this is a joke, it is in very poor taste!”

“Little girl! Get away from it!” cried another mare.

“Oh… oh, no…” Stasis groaned as he tried to get up. Tried to flee.

“Stasis! You! Have! To! Cast! The! Spell!” Goldie yelled in his face, punctuating every word with a violent shake of his shoulders.

“Spell?” Stasis mumbled. Everything was so blurry and loud and angry and afraid. His wings twitched and buzzed as he tried to disentangle himself from Goldie so he could get away.

“Stasis!” roared Major from stage left, where he was even now thundering across the platform towards the helpless little changeling.

Stasis gave a very inequine, unmasculine shriek as he tried to scramble out of the way of the rampaging pony.

Major swept him up in his forelegs, crushing Stasis to his chest in a bear-hug. The little changeling gasped, the feel of someone touching his real, bare fur burning away the last vestiges of fuzziness and confusion.

“Stasis!” cried Major. “You have to –“

“Cast the spell!” Stasis finished, trying to push away from the much larger pony. “Let me down! Let me down, you crazy pony!”

“What spell?” Pierce, apparently having lifted himself back onto the stage, now stood as a bastion of calm in the midst of the swirling emotions, blood still dribbling from his lip. “Abra, what spell are they talking about?”

Abra stood there, unmoving. Even her emotions seemed frozen as she stared at Stasis. “He’s… he’s actually a….”

“He does look a bit different than the other changelings we saw, doesn’t he? Perhaps ponies will learn to actually listen when I warn them of dangers in the future,” Pierce said, wiping his mouth. “Though I doubt it.”

Stasis threw his head back and let loose the most bloodcurdlingly cruel, oppressively maniacal, undeniably wicked laugh he could muster. He cackled and crowed, until the theater had quieted and all attention had once more returned to him.

“You fool!” he finally wheezed, taking a deep breath. “You think you’ve beaten me?”

“Yes,” Pierce said, his eyes narrowing. “What are you doing?”

Stasis summoned his magic, letting if flow over his companions, feeling their contours in his mind as he began to cast the spell.

Oh, please let it work like it did on the ponyquins! Oh, Mother!

“You think you can handle one little old changeling, hero?” he sneered. “How about three!”

Stasis released his spell.

At once, Major and Goldie both lifted in the air, caught in the powerful burst of thaumaturgical energy. They gave a small cry as magic began rippling up their bodies. Fur seemed to burn with power as it turned from orange and white to dark grey; limbs sprouted holes in random locations; small, curved horns grew from their foreheads while membranous wings burst from their backs.

Stasis gasped for air as he inspected these, his first ‘real’ illusions. Quite a step up from turning marbles from one color to the next!

“Look!” Major cried, looking out at the audience through one of his legs. “I’m a changeling!”

“You’re a bad pony, Pierce!” Goldie shouted. “A bad, bad pony!”

Pierce looked behind himself at the crowd, and he must have seen the same thing Stasis did, because his calm emotions immediately broke into consternation and frustration.

“Oh, for Celestia’s sake,” he cursed.

“Your puny pony gods can’t help you now, hero!” Stasis cried.

“It’s just an illusion!” Pierce yelled back at the audience. “It’s – Abra! Explain the difference between what you did and what he did!”

“I….” Abra looked out at the audience, where ponies were already beginning to let their feelings be known.

“You think this is funny?”

“Is the director drunk? Who’s running this play?”

“It was funny at first, kids. It’s time to stop now.”

“I….” Abra looked at Stasis.

He gave her a big, friendly changeling grin.

“I just want to go home!” she cried, galloping for backstage.

“Abra! It’s okay; we’re not really changelings!” Major yelled, looking like he was almost ready to go after her.

“They’re right,” Stasis said, stepping forward, wonderfully, deliciously naked in front of all of these non-hostile ponies – feeling more in-control than he ever had before in his life.

He stepped right up to his foe’s soft, unchitinous body, staring directly up into his face. He bared his fangs in what the ponies probably thought was a smile.

“It’s time to stop now, Pierce,” he said. “Time to go home.”

Pierce’s expression darkened, his anger flared, and for a moment, Stasis thought Pierce was about to strike him.

But then the azure earth pony whirled around on the crowd once more. “You can’t all seriously be buying this, this load of… horsecrap, can you?” he yelled. “Think! Think about the circumstances in which he came to Trottingham! The timing! Do you think that was all just coincidence?”

“I lost my parents to those monsters!” Stasis cried out without hesitation. “How dare you! How dare you use their deaths like it’s some kind of weapon!”

“His appearance! His name!”

“Plenty of ponies have grey fur or green manes and tails where I come from!” Stasis said. “I got bullied enough because of it back there. My parents told me Equestria was a place we could go to get away from all that!”

“He’s a liar! A thief! A selfish, egotistical little brat! How many of you have ever met a child as misbehaved as this? Where did he learn this behavior, unless it’s in his blood? Unless that’s the kind of creature he is!”

“Why can’t you just leave me alone?” Stasis yelled back. “I’m trying to do better! I’m trying to be a good pony! Why do you have to keep treating me like I’m such a monster?”

“Because you are one!” Pierce said, whirling on Stasis with such force that he stumbled back a few paces. “Everything you do and say is a lie! But I won’t let you deceive everypony any longer!”

It wasn’t hard for Stasis to put fear and trembling into his voice as he said, “My parents –“

“Shut! Up! About! Your! Parents!” Pierce screamed, advancing upon him. “Your mother is a giant, evil insect! An abomination that slaughters towns so she can have the strength to pop out more monsters like you!”

“Pierce Blue!” boomed a voice across the theater. Standing in the front row, the hefty stallion from before, Big Blue, gave his son a look that was at least as menacing as any other that night.

For once, Stasis felt genuine fear spread out from Pierce like a wave. Pierce quickly stepped out of the way, and pointed at Stasis with one hoof.

“Father! Look, he’s… he’s right here! You can see him right here! You can see what he is!”

Stasis’ heart pounded in his chest as the ex-chief constable’s eyes swept over him, from top to bottom. Examining him.

Finally, he spoke. “If he was a changeling, don’t you think that Star Swirl the Bearded, of all ponies, would know that? I’ve known that old fossil for years. If anypony would know about creepy, dangerous monsters and such, it would be him.”

Pierce wiped the blood from his mouth again. “He’s… I’ve told you, Father! They have mind control! Goldie, Major, Star Swirl – look at how they act around him! Would they be this loyal to some random brat?”

“Mind control?” Stasis said, his expression and tone baffled.

Big Blue’s jaw was so tight for a moment, Stasis thought he could hear the teeth grind. After a few moments, he seemed to calm down through sheer force of will, and jerked his head back towards the entrance.

“Son,” he said. “Let’s go.”

Pierce’s mouth moved silently for a few moments. He watched as patrons called their children from backstage and began filtering out the front doors. “But I –“

“Now.”

Pierce turned and looked at Stasis. And Goldie. And Major. His eyes flickering about as quickly as his emotions – fear, fury, sorrow.

Shame.

Just as Stasis began to wonder if Pierce wasn’t somehow broken, Crimson alighted on the set and took his hoof. Her expression and emotions were just as mixed as she led him unresisting from the stage.

As more parents and children fled the theater, as Pierce left in the company of his family and fillyfriend, Stasis stared after them.

…

“…Did I win?”

* * *

Stasis stared at himself in the mirror, the dim backstage lighting supplemented by his crooked horn as he rubbed one hoof along his chin, the fur feeling short and smooth to the touch. He wiggled his long, pointy ears, laying them back against his head before erecting them again. His sunflower eyes, large even by the standards of ponies, blinked back at him, and he began curling his lips from his teeth, turning his head back and forth as he inspected his perfect white fangs. He stuck his tongue out at himself, flicking the long, thin black muscle about like a snake’s.

“Ew,” Goldie said from beside him, her muzzle wrinkling in disgust.

Major stuck his blunt, pink tongue out, then frowned at it. “You know, your spell is really good and everything, Stasis, but… I think Abra’s was better.”

“Too good,” Goldie affirmed. “You’re creepy. You’re even creepier than you normally – hey! Stop that!”

Stasis continued looking over his shoulder as he waggled his long, heavy tail at the mirror, ever disappointed at the lack of range of motion the appendage possessed compared to its equine counterparts. He supposed the ponies needed to have one thing that they were better at than changelings….

“Stop wiggling your butt at us,” Goldie demanded with a stomp of her holey hoof. “And… and get rid of this spell! I don’t want to look like this anymore!”

“You’re always so angry, Goldie,” Stasis grumbled as he turned back about. “You’re an angry, angry mare.”

“I’m with Goldie,” Major said, also inspecting his disguise. “This is kind of fun, but I don’t want ponies to think that I’m really a changeling.”

“Changelings are scary,” Goldie continued, “and they hurt ponies. And they bite them, and – and it’s not fun to pretend to be bad things!”

Major moved over and gave her a hug. “It’s alright, Goldie,” he said. “Nopony thinks that Stasis is a changeling anymore! And we couldn’t have done it without you! Isn’t that right, Stasis?”

“I guess…” Stasis mumbled. As difficult as it was to create the illusions, it was a simple matter to dispel them; Goldie and Major both gave a slight shiver as magic fell from their bodies in a curtain of light, before dissipating into the air.

Looking at himself in the mirror, Stasis gave a small wave as he summoned his masque, the vastly more complex illusion flowing out and through his body, changing him back to his now-familiar pony form in a rippling flash of yellow light.

He sighed, eyes downcast.

“Stasis, are you alright?” Goldie asked, shaking off Major’s hug and standing beside him. “Aren’t you glad that we beat Pierce?”

“Nopony’s going to believe him anymore,” Major continued, “and without Abra, he can’t cast that spell! You get to stay here with us, now! Friends forever!”

Goldie leaned down, looking up into his face. “Stasis? What’s the matter?”

“Nothing!” he said, stretching his mouth in a smile. “Hey, um… don’t you guys need to get home? It’s getting pretty late.”

“Oh, hey!” Major exclaimed, then frowned. “…He’s right. We should probably get going.”

“Are you just trying to get rid of us?” Goldie asked, her expression one of deep suspicion.

“Don’t be paranoid, Goldie!” Stasis said, smiling broadly. “You saw where that got Pierce, didn’t you?”

“It’s pretty dark outside, Goldie. Do you want me to walk you home?” Major asked.

Goldie continued to stare at Stasis for a few moments more, eyes narrowed, before she slowly turned around to face their orange friend. “No, it’s alright, Major. My dad’s waiting for me out front.”

“Oh!” Major gave her a nervous smile. “…It’s still dark out there, though. And windy. It might storm.”

“My dad and me can walk you home, Major,” Goldie offered with a nod. “It’s alright.”

“Great!” Major exclaimed. “Hey, Stasis? You want us to walk you home, too?”

“No,” Stasis said, shaking his head. “My home’s all the way out on the edge of town, remember? And besides. This is Trottingham. I don’t really think there’s anything scarier here than I am.”

“Well… okay. If you’re sure,” Major said, already walking towards the exit.

“We’re going to see you tomorrow, though? Right?” Goldie asked.

“Don’t get all…” Stasis waved his hoof about. “…Clingy, Goldie. You’ll see me when I want to be seen.”

Goldie mumbled something about stupid jerks as she trotted off after Major.

Stasis sat there and listened as her hooves clip-clopped against the floor. He listened as the voices of his friends grew more and more distant, until the sound of the front doors slamming shut echoed throughout the empty theatre. He sighed again, and made his own way out of the building.

Pushing past the doors, out into the lobby, then past another set of doors, Stasis looked up and down the dark streets.

Nopony. His friends were long gone, the stores and businesses of downtown Trottingham going from greyscale to near-black as clouds passed in front of the crescent moon. The wind whipped through Stasis’ mane, blowing the thick air of another storm rolling in from the Everfree, uncontested by the local pegasi.

As he began the long walk home, Stasis pondered. He didn’t know why he didn’t feel better about his win over Pierce. It was so complete! It was an awe-inspiring, soul-crushing defeat for the blue pony, such as Stasis could never have imagined!

In front of his father. In front of his mother. In front of his fillyfriend. Pierce’s vendetta was now a wedge between himself and all of them, and if he ever dared raise a hoof against Stasis again, the little changeling wouldn’t hesitate to throw his full weight upon it. This was just a warning shot - he would destroy Pierce, if he had to.

…So why didn’t he feel more victorious? It seemed like, like… everything should be fine now. As long as he didn’t do anything particularly stupid, as long as he was careful, nopony would dare suspect him of being a changeling now. He just had to keep his true identity a mystery, and he would be safe forever. Nit would keep his secret; the other changelings would think he was dead. And one day, after he learned everything he wanted to, and did everything he wanted to, he would… he would….

“Stasis,” called a voice.

Looking up, Stasis saw in front of him a metallic grey unicorn, standing alone in the middle of the road.

“Do I know you?” Stasis asked, then frowned. “Wait… you’re Miss Bright’s date, aren’t you?”

The stallion continued to just look at him. Rather than Pierce’s hard, analytical gaze, this pony almost seemed to look past him, through him. Emotions flew about just under the surface, belying his blank expression, but they were mixed and Stasis couldn’t make heads or tails of them.

“Hello?” Stasis said, ears flattening against his head as he took a step back. “Are you alright?”

The pony’s eyes flicked to meet Stasis’ own. When he finally spoke, it was in the Old Tongue, the shrill words cutting across the abandoned street. “I had to see it with my own eyes. Even when I tore the memories from our brother’s mind and saw it through his, still I could not believe until I had seen it with my own eyes.”

Stasis gasped and shrunk down instinctively, his belly almost on the ground. “…Vertex?”

Vertex’s eyes almost seemed to glow with a green inner fire brighter than the moonlight. “What is this? What is this, little prince? Do you know what you are doing?”

Stasis coughed, his throat feeling dry. “I can explain! It isn’t what it looks like. There’s a perfectly logical explanation for –“

“Those two children are important to you. Close to you,” Vertex interrupted. “I can taste the love for them on my tongue. You abandon your brothers, your sisters, for these creatures. Your mother is past all sorrow; she prayed for longer than you can imagine for a true child of her line, and now her heart lies fallow.”

Stasis’ jaw clenched, and for the first time that night he felt his eyes grow moist. “But… but you can tell her –“

“Tell her what,” Vertex snapped, beginning to walk forward. “Give me the words, child, that I might put her mind at rest. Should I tell her that her only true Son of Change would rather play games with his food than be at her side? Should I tell her that her beloved child, who holds only scorn for his true father, has taken an animal as a surrogate?”

Stasis began to back away as the Killing’s fury grew almost palpable in the air. “I have through the eyes of others seen more children come to fruition than you can understand; yes, princes and queens too. I have seen clever ones, dull ones, fast ones, slow ones, strong ones, and ones only fit to be culled. But I have never seen a child so prone to rebellion and arrogance as you. At first I suspected our mother, that she coddled when she should have struck and bit.”

Vertex reached with powerful green magic, grabbing Stasis tight and stopping his retreat. “But now I see the truth of it. There is something rotten within you, child; I can smell the stench. All manner of defect and deficiency have I seen in the minds and bodies of our young, but never before I have seen a changeling experience such blight upon his very soul!”

Stasis’ throat felt tight and a deeper sort of panic rose within him as he began to strain his muscles against his brother’s bond. “Brother,” he gasped. “Brother, you’re crazy, and you need to let me go. I’m ordering you to let me go!”

Vertex stopped just in front of Stasis. If Pierce had stood tall, Vertex practically towered over the little changeling, and even his masque showed thick muscles and scars from decades of conflict. Stasis had seen him slay another Killing, a brother sentenced to die, once; he had made it look so easy.

“There is a reason why we cull those who cannot carry their own weight, prince,” Vertex continued. “It is no easy thing. Even after all these years, your mother can barely bring herself to do what is necessary for our family. Because this is a harsh world, and if she doesn’t, that rot will grow like a cancer until it has starved the entire family.

“What, then, about a prince who cares not even for his own kind? You’re no threat to anyone now. What of when you’re fully grown, when you are at your full strength? What will come of an atheling that knows our secrets, who spits upon his own parents and his own kind while he befriends the children of the Sun and Moon? What good can come to our race from a prince who knows nothing of duty, of responsibility, of sacrifice?”

Stasis forced his head upward until his gaze met his brother’s and he bared his teeth. “At least some of these ponies actually like me! They all think I’m some useless pony orphan, and they still treat me nicer than any of you! Even Mother only loves me because I’m a prince!”

Vertex gazed down at him, some of his coldness returning. “You’re right,” he said after a few moments. “Fate has played on us a joke, that you, least suited for rule, should have been born into it. If you had been born a common underling, I would already have finished my task and returned home.”

Stasis felt his resolve crumble as he stuttered, “Y-you can’t do that, Brother. I’m not a quisling, I’m a prince, and you can’t do that to me. You have to take me home to Mother! Only she can decide what’s going to happen to me!”

“Even now you’re so cruel, O Prince of Quislings,” Vertex responded. “Mother thinks you dead. Father has already passed his judgment. Would you have me take her son away from her a second time?”

Vertex pulled a blade, seemingly from his mane, and attached it to his hoof in one practiced motion.

Stasis screamed, shedding his disguise in a swift torrent of magic that shattered his brother’s hold on him. Turning, he beat his wings and lifted into the air – only to fall with a cry as the end of one bloomed with pain.

“Do not do this, child,” Vertex said, lowering the bladed hoof. “For all your other faults, I cannot remember when last I saw so much bravery in one so young. It is beneath a Son of Silvertongue to die with his back turned.”

Stasis lifted himself from the cobblestones, fear overriding the pain as he broke into a gallop, eyes searching frantically for anypony still left on the street.

There! An unfamiliar stallion wearing a hat had just turned the corner, coming into view.

“Help!” Stasis yelled as he sprinted as hard as he could toward the pony. “Help, please!”

The stallion looked up, startled, and took a step back as Stasis dashed past, then behind him. “Wait, aren’t you that changeling-actor from the pl–“

Vertex reached the pony, snapped his hoof across his throat, and tossed him over the nearby fence in one smooth motion.

“You’re doing these creatures no favors, traitor-prince,” he said calmly. “Without their goddesses to protect them, they are sheep.”

Stasis’ heart beat fast in his chest as he resumed his gallop back toward the town center, but this time he swerved into a yard, hooves digging deep into the grass as he sprinted through and past swings and houses. When he came to a fenced-in property, he dashed through the open gate and began to turn back toward the street. The gate at the other end was large, shut, and locked.

“For the sake of your own pride, child, do not end this trapped like a –“

Stasis cast the phasing spell and burst through the fence, sparks of yellow fire shattering across it and withering the grass below.

“– Why did I ever teach you such a spell!” Vertex snarled behind him as he, too, sprinted through the obstacle.

Stasis pushed himself faster, faster, as fast as his short little legs would allow, sides heaving and hooves smashing the ground as he swept past the houses. Raindrops began to drizzle from the sky and beat on his face in lieu of tears as the larger buildings of the business district came into view, their sharp silhouettes reaching up towards the darkling clouds above. Stasis plotted the route to the new constable headquarters in his mind, hoping that perhaps all of them combined might be able to stop his brother, the Killing’s swift hoofbeats seeming to fall farther and farther behind –

Vertex appeared in a flash of light before him, the sole of his hoof slamming into the point of the little changeling’s horn with enough force to stop him dead in his tracks. It was not so much pain as nausea that flooded Stasis’ body, and he attempted to grasp both his head and his stomach and moaned as he slumped to the ground, trying not to vomit.

Vertex lowered his bloody punctured hoof to the street, his eyes and emotions burning with barely-concealed fury. “So be it,” he whispered, just loud enough for Stasis to hear. “So be it. Father will look through my eyes, and he will see his son die a coward.”

He grasped the little changeling’s shoulder and flipped him roughly onto his back.

“No,” Stasis moaned, trying to focus his blurred vision on his brother. “No, this is a mistake. Take me back to Mother!”

Vertex straddled him easily, a sudden gust of wind blowing his hair back from his stony, scarred expression. He lifted the bladed hoof into the air.

Stasis burst into tears, waving his hooves desperately between him and the knife, turning his face away as he tried to press himself back into the cobblestones.

The muscles in Vertex’s jaw clenched, each breath heavy as his blade seemed to waver in the wind.

Stasis screamed as a golden figure crashed into Vertex from the side, armor sparking against cobblestone as the pair skidded and rolled. They hadn’t come to a stop before Vertex began raining vicious strikes with all four limbs on the pegasus, hooves thudding against flesh until he lifted the stallion’s helmed head and smashed it into the ground.

Vertex was barely on his hooves before a bulky armored earth pony grabbed him from behind, lifting them both off the ground as he tried to get a chokehold. The Killing spun on his hind hooves like a dancer, fore hooves snapping across the guard’s unarmored throat and underside. The earth pony’s eyes widened as he stumbled back and fell, his hooves grasping at his wounds, the one on his belly bleeding red.

A blue, translucent shield sprung up around Vertex as several more pegasi dropped heavily onto the street, spears pointed toward the Killing. Vertex’s expression darkened as he immediately dropped to his front hooves, dug them between the loose cobblestones, and bucked the shield so hard it cracked.

A unicorn running toward them staggered, his horn glowing brighter at the same time as the shield.

“I can’t hold it for long!” he yelled to the others. “I’m going to switch to an anti-teleportation field. Get ready to jump him on my mark!”

The pegasi surrounded the dome, ignoring their fallen brothers even as Vertex ignored them, the cracks in the shield growing as he beat at it like a hammer on an anvil.

The unicorn guard seemed to notice Stasis out of the corner of his eye, his grimace of pain turning to one of anger as sweat and rain dripped from his chin.

“What are you still doing here, boy?” he yelled at the little changeling. “Get out of here! Run! Go!”

Startled out of his shock, Stasis stumbled to his hooves and sprinted away, forcing his burning legs back into motion as he pushed against the rising wind and rain. He heard the shouted commands behind turn into yells and cries of pain before he had even gotten out of sight, but he dared not look back.

It was several blocks until he began to stumble, his legs starting to give out even as he realized that he had instinctively gone back the way he had come, toward Star Swirl’s house. He was naked and alone in the middle of the street, in the middle of a storm, thunder already booming in the distance, rain mixing with blood as it dripped and ran from his tattered, dirty wing.

Stasis’ heart beat heavy in his chest as he imagined his brother popping out of the shadows or from the sky, covered in crimson and with a knife or broken spear in his hooves. He pushed himself on, as fast as he could go without tripping as he tried to keep to the sides of the road, to the shadows, letting the increasing roar of the storm cover up the sound of his footsteps.

He was almost in a daze as phased through the fence into Star Swirl’s yard, his own yard, and crept into the inky blackness of the house’s shadow, where even the moonlight couldn’t reach, before crawling around to the rear of the house. There he finally allowed himself to sink to the ground, his belly squelching into the mud as he began to shiver.

…He lied there for a long time in the wet cold, almost afraid to think, his eyes squeezed shut against whatever might be approaching in the darkness. The storm had reached its full fury, water splashing down from the roof above, lighting flashing through his eyelids as thunder boomed around him.

Finally, finally, when it seemed his brother had either died or lost the trail, Stasis allowed his eyes to peek out into the surrounding black as he thought about his future.

…Even if Vertex was dead, Stasis could never return home again. Vertex’s inexorability was by all accounts merely a shadow of Father’s, and Father had many sons. Mother might even turn the little changeling over to her husband herself. It didn’t matter how much she loved him; Father had made his decision, and the idea of a member of the godsblood turning against his or her spouse was evil, even by Stasis’ standards.

So he had to stay here forever. Alone. Surrounded by ponies who didn’t even know what he was, or that someling was out to kill him. Stasis would one day be much stronger than even Vertex could ever be, except not, because he would be a little body under a little tombstone long before then.

No one would even care. The ponies would all be disgusted that he had tricked them, his siblings would be secretly glad that he was gone, and Mother would spend eternity thinking that it was all her fault.

Stasis began to cry again, though this time it wasn’t out of fear but out of sorrow and pity, pity for his own life which was supposed to be the greatest of any changeling who had ever lived, but now was going to end soon because his stupid father was too stupid to understand how much more powerful he could become by feeding off of the love and knowledge of the inhabitants of this vast dirt-pony town.

He sniffled and tried to wipe the tears from his face, which only made it wetter from the rain. If he stayed with his friends, they would just get hurt too. He could flee to Celestia, who probably thought the best preventative measure for evisceration was immolation. Luna would probably just eat him.

The little changeling laid his cheek against the house. There was only one pony who might know how to protect him from the rest of his kind. But then he would know how much Stasis had lied to him, how he had tricked him, how he had used him. He would know that the pony he thought he loved was actually a monster who had come here to beat and bite and steal.

It would break the old pony’s heart. And as much as Stasis feared his brother, the thought of the wizard cursing him and throwing him out filled the little changeling’s heart with a special kind of terror.

Stasis’ breathing was heavy again as he ground himself against the wall. He couldn’t handle such a thing. He couldn’t handle losing both of the only homes that he had ever known in a single night. It was too much.

He moaned softly into the dripping wall. For the first time in his life he felt like a true monster, a pariah. Everyone who knew him hated him, and everyone who loved him didn’t know him.

Why couldn’t there be just one creature in the world who loved him for who he was? He wasn’t greedy; he loved being hated most of the time. Just one. He couldn’t survive being completely alone; it was too much.

The little changeling put his hooves on the wall, staring at them, studying them as if he had never seen them before. They were beautiful, but the ponies would hate them, just as they would hate him. He was tired of pretending to be other than what he was, and it wasn’t Stasis the pony that needed help anyway. Stasis the changeling was the one who was so afraid; Stasis the changeling was the one who was real.

Fire burned as he pushed through into the house beyond, feeling exhausted as he stepped into the pitch black of one of Star Swirl’s storage rooms. A few minutes of slow, methodical touching got him over and through the junk, and he used what felt like the last of his reserves to phase his way quietly through the wall into the hallway beyond.

He spent some time there, still dripping onto the floor as his darkness-adjusted eyes easily took in the candlelight from the work room at the far end of the house. His mind was almost blank with fear as he began to take slow, trepidatious steps deeper into the light.

When he finally reached the edge of the room, he stopped quietly in the shadows. The old wizard was still a distance away near the door, his hat low on his brow as he paced back and forth with nervous energy, mumbling darkly to himself.

Stasis stayed there in the gloom. He knew he should call out to the old magician, but he did not. He wanted to go away, far away into the Everfree. He wanted to hide under roots and bushes like a timberwolf and never come out.

After a time, Star Swirl finally looked up. He glanced forlornly around the room, his gaze seeming both desperate and random, until he finally settled on the hallway. The faded blue eyes squinted.

“Lad?” he croaked, his voice sounding dry and hoarse. “Is that you?”

Stasis slipped deeper into the darkness. His eyes didn’t leave the pony’s.

Star Swirl licked his lips. “Lad, if that’s you, I want you to come on out now. I’m much too old for games.”

The little changeling stepped silently and quietly backwards. A little farther and he could turn the corner and be gone from sight.

The wizard’s eyes widened and his emotions tasted of sour desperation. “Stasis, please, come out! Don’t be a trick of the light. You wouldn’t leave an old stallion here alone, would you? Please. At least come and say goodbye, lad. Don’t leave an old stallion here alone.”

Stasis shivered there in the darkness, though he was no longer cold. He opened and closed his mouth a few times, but his throat was too tight.

Star Swirl looked away and hung his head. His sides shook.

Stasis felt almost torn, his forelegs inching forward, his hinds behind. It felt like he was forcing the words out of his very lungs.

“I’m here,” he croaked.

Star Swirl looked up, his cheeks and beard already sparkling with moisture. “What? Did – is somepony there?”

“I’m here!” Stasis said, louder. “I’m here, but I think I need to go away now.”

Star Swirl took a step toward him.

“No!” Stasis shouted, retreating again. “Stay back!”

Star Swirl stopped, bewildered. “What? What happened, lad? Why do you need to go?”

Stasis wiped his nose with his hoof. “Because I’m a monster.”

Star Swirl stared at him with a strange expression. After a few moments he said, “No. No, you’re exactly how you’re meant to be.”

“No,” Stasis countered. “I’m a monster. Even other monsters think that I’m a monster. You wouldn’t love me if you knew what I was.”

“I know that you’re a brat,” Star Swirl said, still staring into the darkness. “I know that you’re disobedient, reckless, and deceitful. I know that you bully the other children at school, you drive the adults around you to distraction, and you made that Abra lass burst into tears once or twice like it was a game. I know that you never listen to anypony above you, and you have the oddest notions of morality of any child that I’ve ever seen.”

He tilted his head slightly, his gruff voice somehow becoming gentle. “I also know that you’re brave, and clever, and loyal in your own peculiar way. I know that you don’t let anypony put an idea into your head unless you think it’s a good one, and I know that you’ll never let yourself be bullied or steered into doing something that you don’t think you ought. I know that there’s a will and a desire to do better and be better in you that I don’t think that I’ve ever seen in anypony else, young or old.”

The old pony swallowed, and when he spoke again, his voice almost cracked. “So how can you tell me that I don’t know you, lad? Are you telling me that everything I just said is an illusion? Are you saying that all of that is fake?”

Stasis’ jaw grew tight as his nostrils flared. “But… that doesn’t matter! I’ve been lying to you this entire time!”

Star Swirl snorted. “So what else is new? You’re going to have to do better than that to make me stop loving you, lad.”

“I’m not an orphan!” Stasis cried. “I have parents – too many parents! I have more brothers and sisters and half-brothers and half-sisters than you could possibly imagine!”

“If they want custody of you,” Star Swirl growled, “they can meet me in court. The fact that you’re here tells me all I need to know about their parenting.”

“I’m not a pitiful defenseless pony colt caught in the crossfire, either!” Stasis continued, almost desperate. “I came to Trottingham to hurt ponies. To hurt lots and lots of ponies. I was glad when your buildings were torn down and your neighbors bit!”

“You. Are. A. Child,” Star Swirl almost snarled. “One very mature for his age, aye, but only a fool would blame a little imp like you for doing what he was taught and told. The things I’d say to such a fool aren’t fit for a child to hear.”

“That’s not the worst!” Stasis said, his chest so tight he could barely breathe. “There’s something much worse!”

“Well?” Star Swirl continued, defiant. “Out with it, lad! Make me hate you, if you can!”

Stasis took a step forward, his ears perked and his pose rigid. He took another step, and another step, and another, his sunflower eyes wide with fear as he stared into the opposing blue ones.

He stepped into the light, casting a perforated shadow on the wall.

Star Swirl looked him up and down critically, grumpily. “…Well? I may love you, lad, but you were never much of one to look at.”

Stasis’ tight expression slowly faded into a grimace. “’Well?’ What do you mean, ‘well?’ Turn up the light, you old geezer! I’m a changeling!”

The old geezer huffed irritably. “Is that what this is all about? You kept me up all night for that? Is that what they teach you over there at that theater – how to create drama?”

Stasis stared at Star Swirl. After a few moments, a cry ripped unbidden from his throat as he galloped across the space between them.

The old stallion’s forelegs were surprisingly strong as he swept up the little changeling, almost crushing him to his breast as Stasis began to weep into his shoulder.

“There, there, lad,” Star Swirl said soothingly, awkwardly trying to rub at his chitinous backplate. “You know I still love you – take a great chompin’ bite out of it if you like. It’s alright; you’re safe.”

“But… but… how…?” the little changeling blubbered.

“Come now, lad, I’m not stupid,” Star Swirl gruffed gently. “The first clue was you getting into my house without a knock or key. That’s hardly a trick most six-year-old orphans can pull over on ol’ Star Swirl the Bearded. The second was how you didn’t know diddly about the very country you lived in – I think zebras over in Quagga-land know more about the princesses than you did. And the third was how when I came up to check on you that first night, I saw two little hind hooves sticking out from under those covers, so full of holes I could’ve just about grated cheese on ‘em.”

The old pony paused his ministrations for a moment. “Eh… on second thought, I reckon it really only took the one clue.”

Stasis sniffled. “You’ve known… this entire time?”

Star Swirl sighed as he held the damp little changeling tighter. “Aye, lad. I’m ashamed to admit that that first night, I was so angry with what your people had done to mine that I very nearly dragged you out of bed and tossed you back into the forest to try to find your own way home, or toss you to the guards and let Princess Celestia sort you out. I knew enough about changelings to know what you were – the prince-spawn of the monster that had attacked my home. I’ve never been a violent pony, but when I learned that Goldie’s mother and others had died while I was sitting here cooking you potaters, I was tempted to do worse than toss you out, to hurt your mother in the worst way that I knew how.”

Star Swirl went quiet. After a few moments, the little changeling reached one of his hooves as far around the stallion’s back as he could and began to rub it.

“…But I didn’t do that,” Star Swirl finished hoarsely. “At first I told myself that it was just because I wanted to study you. See what you were made of. When that excuse grew tired, I decided that I was going to try to reform you – make you into a model changeling that could help unite our peoples and bring harmony to the world. That’s when I let the local garrison know about you, told them to keep an eye on you from a distance, make sure you were safe.”

Star Swirl carefully peeled the little changeling from his shoulder and looked down into his eyes.

“But now,” he croaked, “now I just want you here because I’m a selfish old stallion and I’m tired of living in this big old house by myself. I learned so much and I did so much, but I never took Princess Celestia’s advice. I had rivals and colleagues, but never friends; I lost my old family, and I never made a new one. I don’t want to die alone in this big empty house surrounded by the books I read and the papers I wrote. Please, lad; please stay with me a little while longer. It won’t be long by your standards; just a little while. Don’t let me go down in history as the pony who did so much for the world but couldn’t love even a single member of it.”

“…Okay,” Stasis said, blinking away the tears in his own eyes. “I’ll stay a little while. I love you, too.”

FINIS

…For Now

Author's Note

Prodigy, n:
1. a person, especially a child or young person, having extraordinary talent or ability
2. something extraordinary regarded as of prophetic significance
3. something abnormal or monstrous

...That took long enough. Twilight was still just a nerd in her tree when I started work on this story, and changeling fanon was yet in its infancy. I wrote the first 9,000+ words in one day, with almost no editing afterwards, while listening to Twilight's Sonata and For the New Lunar Republic over and over again because they were the only pony songs that I knew. I still adore those songs.

While a number of people helped me at various stages of the writing process, I'd like to give a special shout-out to deinonychus, whose polite occasional inquiries reminded me that some people really did enjoy this story and were still looking forward to its continuance. It was immensely encouraging.

Also, special thanks to my family, whose mantra of "When's the next chapter?" was the bane of my existence for... I don't even know how many years now. If it hadn't been for their unwavering support (not to mention their many hours of editing help!), I don't think I ever would have gotten through my writer's block and finished this story.

I don't know what it says about me that, as happy as I am to have fished my first novel and great writing project, I'm nearly as happy that I was able to give my characters some closure. I'd like to write a sequel, but even if that never happens, at least Stasis has his future and Star Swirl has his redemption.

Hope you guys enjoyed, and I would love it if you left a comment below, however long or short. Thanks for reading!

The Beginning

Stasis walked through Trottingham. Around him was the constant thrum of his brothers and sisters, almost drowned out by the screams and shouts of the prey. He watched, somewhat afraid, somewhat exhilarated by the action; ponies were being tied up, tied down, chased. He saw several foals get picked up and flown off; he also saw a few changelings, unwilling to endure the slow process of feeding off of love, sink their fangs into ponies and beginning feeding in a faster, if more wasteful route.

He considered finding himself a meal as well, but the entire city was in chaos and he couldn’t really see an available pony that wasn’t already being preyed upon. There was just so much going on…he didn’t want to start digging around inside the buildings for holed-up ponies, since that was a really good way to get hurt, but he didn’t want to fight with his siblings for one that had already been dug out. He didn’t really want to share, either, even if he could find a changeling willing to do that, which was unlikely. He wasn’t particularly popular.

So instead, he just watched. He had fed on ponies himself a few times, of course, ones that his mother had caught, but he wasn’t old enough to put on a masque and go off on his own just yet, and he didn’t think anyone but Mother had ever seen a feeding frenzy this huge before. There were going to be a lot of stomachaches tonight.

He felt the love all around him, even amidst the fear and other emotions. So much love…he felt he could almost swim in it, drink it up even if he didn’t have a particular prey. He had never thought much of his mother – she certainly didn’t think much of him, save when she had to – but this new land she had brought them to was wondrous. So much love, and these ponies didn’t seem to know anything about defending themselves…the only ones that had put up any real resistance was the constabulary, and his mother had dealt with them herself. Their headquarters was just rubble now.

As he slowly walked down the street, he noticed a filly, about his size, in an alley. She was alabaster with a bright yellow mane, almost the same color as his own eyes, which intrigued him – those were his most defining physical characteristic, after all. Apparently unnoticed by his frenetic family, she was alone and sobbing quietly to herself. He could feel the love coming off her, even from this distance – she missed her parents, most likely. He started trotting in her direction, glad that he would have the chance to sate himself without the need to do anything dangerous or uncomfortable. Whereas his siblings were soaking up energy as fast as they could, he would go slowly so as to not use her up and –

There was a sudden crack and a flash behind him, and he could hear screeching – not the annoying wailing of the ponies, but the screeching wails of his own species. He turned around, and his eyes were swiftly drawn to the sky.

High above, there flew a vast formation of pegasi – well, perhaps not terribly vast, but each one was large and muscular and steely-eyed, brandishing heavy spears and covered in golden plate armor – and at the apex of the formation several pegasi drew a strange, golden contraption, a sky-chariot of some kind. In it sat the largest, most fearsome creature he had ever seen, even more so than his own mother.

She was extraordinarily large for a pony, and her horn was the longest he had ever seen. It astonished him to see two wings splayed out to her either side; unlike with his own kind, he had not known that ponies could have both horn and wings. Surrounding her was an expansive, gaseous mane, sparkling many different colors in the sun and rippling as with an invisible wind. Upon her head sat a golden crown, inset with a large purple gem, and on her breast sat a golden brooch with a similar turquoise stone. Her expression was judgement. The sun shone at her back, almost blinding him, but he could not look away: the world had shrunk until only she remained. She was white, unsullied and absolute, and the light blazed through her widespread wings. She was an avenging angel. She was the most beautiful thing he had ever seen.

Her violet eyes – matching the color of the gems, he noted absently – began to burn, began to blaze, and her horn glowed. Piercing golden light erupted from its tip, cracking into the earth below, shattering his reverie with a boom that shook the earth under his hooves as the screams of his brothers and sisters grew louder in his ears. He turned to flee.

As his small wings thrummed and lifted him in the air, he could hear the cracking sound grow louder and louder as it drew closer, each one coming sooner after the last, each one lighting up the street in golden yellow light. He raced as fast as his immature appendages would allow, his heart beating a furious staccato in his narrow chest, trying to outfly the onrushing destruction. As the wave seemed to reach a crescendo - as pebbles tinkled across his chitinous backplate, as the familial screeching was overwhelmed by the nearly constant crack of the magic lances, and as his derriere seemed to be getting warmer – he realized his mistake. He turned and, willing a burst of speed, tried to reach an alleyway, out of the path of the destruction.

He was right there – right there – at the alley’s entrance, when a lance fell beside him, the resulting explosion hurling him forward and sideways, smacking him into the side of one of the buildings with a thud. He sat there dazed for a moment as the magical holocaust passed him by into the rest of the city. After a few moments he tried to get up, and fell back to the ground, hissing at the searing pain; his right side was bruised, and the tip of his delicate, membranous left wing was singed.

But adrenaline was still strong in his system, and he tried to ignore the pain, instead stumbling to his hooves and racing down the alley, mentally cursing his short legs. As he exited on the other side, he saw the golden pegasi falling from the sky like hail onto what relations of his lucky enough to still be alive and stupid enough to not have already fled. They were eerily silent, their faces bearing the same grim fury as their mistress as they slaughtered changelings with a horrible efficiency. The changelings were fighting back, but normal changelings were relatively weak in magic and strength, and they were lost without their mother there to guide them. He raced across the street, dodging around ponies and leaping over the bodies of the fallen, hurtling down another alley and onto another street, desperately hoping that a small, grounded changeling like him would escape the notice of the ruthless pony soldiers.

As he turned a corner, he bounced off the backside of a pegasus soldier. Time seemed to slow as the pony’s head began to turn. Stasis, terrified, felt his magic surge as he instinctively wrapped a masque around himself, bearing much the same colorations as himself – dark grey fur, dusky blue mane and tail, and bright sunflower eyes.

The soldier’s eyes were slits, but when he saw Stasis, shrunk so low his belly was dragging on the ground and shivering in fear, they seemed to soften.

“It’ll be alright, son. Stay here; don’t leave the alley.” With that, the pegasus grabbed up his weapon and leapt into the air, streaking down spear-first into the body of a changeling a few yards away.

Stasis wasted no time. Still wearing the masque, he began galloping through the streets again, his hooves clop clop clopping across the pavestones, pushing his body to go faster, faster, faster. This place wasn’t paradise, this was Tartarus. It was a nightmare. Even now, all around him his brethren were being hunted and cut down in the streets, most too stupid and panicked to think to put on masques of their own. He had no idea where his mother was, but she had been near where that…that…thing, that angel or hellbeast or whatever it was had come down from the heavens. He could only fear the worst.

Finally, he seemed to have made it out of the central part of the city where the horrible white creature and her legions were concentrating, and the houses became more and more spread out. His legs were starting to feel very heavy, and he slowed down from a gallop to a trot as weariness and wariness began to replace the adrenaline and stark terror. As his brain started to take over from his instincts, he realized that he had little idea of where he was, other than it being the outskirts of Trottingham, and that he had absolutely no clue where he was going, where he should be going. Whatever changelings had escaped would congregate around Mother, if she was still alive, but he had no idea where that would be. Worse, he almost certainly couldn’t get there in time, even if he did know – after what had just happened, the changelings were not going to wait for a cripple to get as far away from this horror as their wings could carry them. Not even a crippled prince, not after what had just happened.

As he looked at the alien houses around him – all of them recently abandoned or boarded shut – he felt the fear of a brutal death begin to morph into something else…the fear of being alone. His family may not like him very much, but back in their old hunting grounds in the woods they would hardly let him take a tinkle without an escort. Only in the euphoria of the feast had they forgotten him. He would have thought being alone might bring with it a feeling of a freedom, but it didn’t, not with prey turned predators all around him and nowhere to flee, nowhere to hide but in plain sight. His family was gone, fled or dead or soon to be, and he needed to find shelter, and quickly; the dread warrior ponies would surely begin scouring the city and the surrounding area soon, and once the battle-lust wore off they would not be so easily fooled by a simple masque. He was for the first time in his life quite alone and vulnerable, surrounded by those who wanted him dead.

He didn’t want to die.

He paused for a moment, there in the middle of the abandoned street, and tried to regulate his breathing, tried to slow his heartbeat. He needed to think clearly, needed to find a way to survive. He looked around in all directions – he didn’t know for what, just something that would save him, that would get him out of here before the ponies found him – and he spotted a very large house, almost a mansion, located incongruously here on the edge of town. It looked old and dilapidated, with leafy vines growing amok up and down the walls and the off-white paint peeling away from the wood in most places. The shrubbery looked like it hadn’t been trimmed in years, and the yard had grown almost as tall as he was, save for the brick walkway leading up to the front double-doors. Also quite unlike any other houses around, there was a black iron fence surrounding the entire property. Stasis wasn’t sure what this house was or why it was located here, on the outskirts of Trottingham – of course, who really knows why ponies do anything – but it was big, far from the action, and apparently abandoned.

The gate, Discord be praised, was unlocked and opened surprisingly easy at his touch. He trotted quickly across the walkway, trying to look casual in case anypony happened to be watching, and tugged on the door-handle. It didn’t budge, and neither did the other door when he tried it. He gritted his teeth. It seemed kind of wasteful that ponies would lock up houses that they weren’t using, but again, they were ponies, after all. He just had to stay calm, stay natural, and find a way into the stupid house.

He looked around. All of the windows seemed to be intact, unfortunately, and he dared not alert anypony that something was amiss by breaking one himself. Wading through the yard, he made it to the nearest window and tried opening it with his magic. It, too, didn’t budge. He made his way to the next window, and then the one after that, until after several minutes of increasing vexation he had made his way all the way back to the double doors. Looking up, he could see that there were a number of windows on the second level of the abode, but of course if he could have flown up to reach them then he wouldn’t need to be here in the first place. He growled quietly to himself.

As he stared at the doors, he suddenly had an idea. After all, it was his wing that was injured, not his horn…he still had access to all of his magic, which even as young as he was still included more than just changing masques. And besides, he was a prince, not just some random underling. He hadn’t been taught any of the really fun stuff yet, like mind magic, but he had learned the spell his mother and some of the other most powerful changelings used to pass through even the thickest barriers. He was still very inexperienced, unfortunately, but surely he had enough skill and raw ability to make it through a simple door…

Beginning to draw his power into this horn, he realized what he was doing and quickly stopped and looked all around him, frightened. But there still didn’t seem to be any ponies out and about, or soldiers, and he didn’t see anypony peering at him out of their houses. He decided that if he was going to do this, he had better do it quickly.

Again drawing the power latent in his body into his horn, he began to go over the appropriate thought-pattern in his mind as his horn starting glowing with bright yellow energies. Praying that he had done it right, he released the spell and then leapt into the door, bracing himself against impact.

But he passed right through, his form feeling strange as he did so, as if pressure were passing in a wave over and through his body, squeezing and pulling his insides gently, a feeling not totally unpleasant. He landed haphazardly on the polished wood floor beyond, tripping over his own hooves and falling on his face.

The house was fairly dark, despite the clear skies outside, but his eyes adjusted quickly. Rubbing his nose, he took in the sight around him. Beside him were a number of old coats and galoshes and other accoutrements, smelling mildly of mildew, and in front he was surprised to see that the house seemed to open into one large, cavernous room. Where most pony houses he had seen – albeit, not that many – normally had some kind of guest-receiving room or just opened straight into the living room, this looked more like a freakish workshop of some sort. There were benches and tables everywhere, covered in a chaotic mishmash of strewn papers, glass vials, and a variety of other instruments that he had never seen before. There were also gems of a variety of different shapes and colors, skulls, feathers, and many other things he did recognize, but seemed to serve no purpose in somepony’s living room. The only things that looked remotely normal were the empty fireplace at the other end of the room and the bookshelves that covered every available wall; although he couldn’t read the titles, the books all appeared old and big and well-worn. The other side of the room also had several doors that apparently opened into other parts of the house. The whole place was like some kind of freaky warlock’s hideaway.

These were all the things he noticed first. The second thing he noticed was, despite the hectic nature of the room, nothing was covered in the dust or cobwebs that he had been hoping for. Whoever – or whatever – had lived here, was still here, or else had left so soon ago that there was no good reason not to expect him or it to return any moment now.

Stasis looked longingly back at the doors behind him, until he remembered the guards and the terrible thing that led them. He swallowed. Better to face whatever unholy terror would reside in a place like this than the carnage that lay behind him. Comforting himself with this thought, Stasis began to creep further into the mansion.

Staying crouched low to the ground, he passed in between the wooden furniture around him, trying not to put too much sudden weight on any of the floorboards, lest they creak and arouse anything living in this old house…or anything dead. Though his power was exceptionally strong for a changeling of his age, he had no real combat experience or training and wasn’t entirely certain he could handle a normal adult pony by himself, much less anything worse. He would have to rely on stealth. He kept an eye out for any stakes or bits of silver he could use, just in case.

He crept up to one of the doors, and slowly, ever so slowly, began turning the brass knob with his hoof. He braced himself. However, opening the door slightly and peaking beyond revealed only a hallway, not the skeleton he had been expecting. It was a corridor even darker than the room he was in, unlit by any windows, and running from the right side of the house to the left. Randomly deciding to go left, he slowly, sneakily crept down the hallway towards the only other door on that side. He reached for the knob…

“What do you think you’re doing in my house, lad?”

Stasis jumped what surely must have been several feet in the air and, as soon as his hooves remade contact with the floor, rocketed away from the gruff voice behind him. He was running straight towards a wall, of course, but it was wall leading outside, and he quickly pumped energy into his horn, intending to reuse his previous spell and pass right through it.

As he tried to perform the spell in his mind, fumbling over it in his panic, he realized that the wall seemed to be running away from him somehow, jumping away from him every time he got close. It was making him kind of dizzy. He tried to run faster, faster, but he couldn’t reach the stupid wall, and there was something right behind him….

“It’s a teleportation spell, lad. Slow down before you hurt yourself.”

Stasis final stopped running, his sides heaving with the effort, and he slowly turned around. Behind him was a large, hunched old pony, wearing a pointy blue hat and cape covered in stars and crescent moons and hung about with little yellow bells. His fur was grey and his beard so incredibly long and thick and tangled that the only part of his face Stasis could clearly make out was his blue, angry eyes.

It was some horrible pony demon, just like he had thought. He had left his family and wandered off on his own, and now he was going to get cut up and boiled in baby changeling stew, just like in the stories. Discord help him.

“Now I’ll ask you again. What. In. Celestia’s. Mane. Are. You. Doing. In. My. House?”

Stasis’ eyes were very big and his brain seemed to turn to jelly. He shrunk away from the large unicorn and was so close to the ground that he was almost laying on it. He wrapped his tail around himself, and began to shiver.

The angry unicorn continued to look at him for a few moments, his lips tightly pursed. Finally, he sighed through his nose and said, “I didn’t mean to scare you, lad. Well, actually, I did mean to scare you, but not quite this bad.” He took a step forward, and Stasis took a step backwards. The unicorn sighed, bigger this time. “I’m not going to beat you, or eat you, or whatever it is you think I’m going to do, lad. My eyesight’s been a bit poor lately in dark places like this and I just want a good look at you, is all. Now stand still, or I’ll have to teleport you again.”

The unicorn, very slowly, took a step forward, and this time Stasis resisted the urge to turn and run, instead remaining very, very still, though he couldn’t stop his shivering. Maybe the old beast just wanted to sniff him or something; that happened sometimes with creatures in the forest. Don’t run, and they won’t chase. At least, that’s what he’d been told….

He carefully followed the grey pony with his eyes as the unicorn walked over and leaned down. He didn’t sniff him, though, but just squinted.

“Definitely not a midget. Probably not here to steal my stuff, then.” The pony sat back on his haunches. “And you got the prettiest, brightest yellow eyes I’ve ever seen. Very peculiar. What’s your name, lad, and I’ll ask you one more time – what are you doing in my house?” He blinked. “Come to think of it, how in Celestia’s mane did you get in here in the first place? Surely you didn’t break a window…my eyes are going a bit, but my hearing’s still as sharp as a fox, that’s how I knew you was in here.”

“St-Stasis.” As soon as he said it, he regretted it. He should have gone with something more ponyish, something to do with food maybe, or a mildly ironic reference to his personality or a special talent. Small ‘n Harmless, maybe, or Cute ‘n Cuddly?

Curses, but those were hard to come up with on the spot.

“That’s your name, eh? Peculiar. You’ve got a pretty voice though. Are you a boy or girl?”

His voice was quite androgynous, allowing him to play as either gender. Still, he had tried to give this masque the blockier muzzle of a male pony, but maybe the warlock’s poor vision made it difficult for him to see. There didn’t seem to be any advantage to lying in this case, so he answered, “I-I’m a colt.” After a moment he added, “A pony colt.” Best not to leave any room for misunderstandings.

“I said I couldn’t see well in the dark, lad, not that I’m as blind as a bat.” The unicorn seemed to think for a moment. “Still got a pretty voice, though. Good for choirs and such. Where’s your parents, and if you don’t tell me how and why you’re in my house I’m going to get angry again.”

The cardinal rule when dealing with ponies: lie, lie, lie. That went double for when being caught meant half an hour at two hundred and twelve degrees.

He lowered his eyes and pawed at the ground with one hoof, trying to look nervous and mournful, which was amazingly easy. “My-my parents were ki-killed outside a few minutes ago.” The unicorn’s eyes got very wide. “I was just trying to find a place to hide from all the fighting,” he sniffled, “and I saw your house, and I didn’t think anypony still lived here, so I snuck in….” Please don’t ask again how I got in, please don’t ask, please don’t ask….

The bearded pony looked confused as he asked, “Died? Fighting? What in Celestia’s mane are you talking about, lad? Have you lost your mind?”

It was Stasis’ turn to blink. He didn’t know? How could he possibly not know? The whole of downtown Trottingham was a warzone!

Fearing that maybe he just misunderstood the old unicorn’s question, he answered, “Well, uh…a bunch of changelings invaded Trottingham a few hours ago-“

“What?”

Stasis shrunk back even further. “Yeah, but then all these pegasi with gold armor came, and there was this huge white pony thing with them….” He shivered. “It was horrible.”

The bearded pony looked at him aghast. “Princess Celestia? She’s here? Stars have mercy….” The unicorn shook his head. “I…I’ve got to go help! Where’s my hat? Where’s my cape?” He started looking around himself for a moment, as if he would find them lying somewhere in the middle of the hallway. He seemed to spot the cloak on his back, and blinked.

“Oh. Right.” He looked at Stasis again, and his eyes softened. “Listen, lad. I’m going to go see what I can do to help the Princess. I doubt any changelings will last long against her and the royal guard, but I’ve got to help with the recovery; a bunch of ponies are bound to be hurt, and every extra hoof’ll count.” He sighed. “I…I’m really sorry about your parents. This old house’s a lot sturdier than she looks – a bit like me, I reckon – and you should be as safe here as anywhere in Trottingham right now. You can stay here ‘till I get back, and then we’ll figure out what to do with you.” Adjusting his hat on his head, he turned and ran into the main room and then out the front door, calling out, “And don’t touch my stuff!”

Versus

“Rise and shine, lad!” The elderly unicorn roared. “One! Two! Three!”

But this time Stasis was not caught unawares. Curl up, cast masque, check masque, gracefully slip out of bed and onto the creaky wooden floor below, careful to avoid any greedy, grasping sheets and coverlets. He gave Star Swirl a victorious, if tired smile.

The unicorn had tried vegetables, chores, beds. Stasis had overcome them all, and he would not, could not be defeated by simple sleep-deprivation torture. He was unbreakable.

As if sensing his thoughts, Star raised an eyebrow. “Oh? Bound and determined to deny an old stallion his morning fun, eh, lad?” He sighed. “Oh well. Just have to try again tomorrow, I suppose. Anyway, go ahead and make your bed and then come meet me downstairs for breakfast.”

Star Swirl started to turn, but then seemed to notice Stasis’ expression. He sighed again. “Of course. Silly old Star, thinking you might actually know how to make your own gosh-darned bed.” Turning around, he continued, “Alright, well, watch closely lad. I’m only showing you once.”

This particular custom – yet another thing which his pony training had not prepared him for – was perhaps the most ridiculous yet. What was the point of ‘making’ one’s bed when you were just going to mess it up again that night? Who was he trying to impress?

When he pointed this out to Star, however, the old pony just told him that it was good practice for all the other useless things he’d have to do when he grew up, such as cutting his lawn every once in a while so that the neighbors didn’t keep bellyaching about sinking property values. This explanation just left Stasis even more confused, though.

Following Star downstairs for breakfast, he suddenly realized that he no longer had an entire night’s buffer between him and school. He began to feel concerned.

Sure, he could fool one half-blind crazy old pony, but what about colts and fillies his own age? The fact that he was far too magnificent to be a mere pony child should be glaringly obvious. It was certainly obvious to him.

The question, really, was not whether they were stupid…but were they stupid enough? The thought began to weigh heavily on his mind.

“Nervous about school today, lad?”

Stasis blinked. The unicorn had paused at the bottom of the stairs and was looking at him with a quizzical expression. The changeling gazed back at him suspiciously.

How did Star know that? Did he have some kind of emotional telepathy as well? Some kind of privy pony powers that Stasis was not aware of? The universe must really hate Stasis if Star had learned mind magic before he did.

The old pony’s voice was unusually soft as he said, “It’s okay to be nervous, lad. Most everypony is, their first day of school.”

It may be okay, but Stasis didn’t want to be nervous. He used the puppy eyes. “But…but can’t you teach me instead? You’re so smart and old and wise…surely you’d make a much better teacher than anypony at that stupid school!”

Star Swirl smiled down at him, and Stasis smiled back.

“No. Nice try though.”

Stasis pouted. That was the last time the stupid old pony got any flattery from him….

“For one thing, lad, I do have other things to do besides babysit you all day. For example, today while you’re at school, I’m going to be helping organize the recovery, and however dull you might think your day is, I promise you that time with me supervising reconstruction and interfacing with bureaucrats would be much, much worse.”

Stasis rolled his eyes. Star’s day was going to suck, so he was going to make sure Stasis’ day sucked too. Typical pony behavior.

“Also,” the old unicorn continued, “it’s not good for you to be hanging about all day with nopony but me to keep you company. You need friends your own age, and school’s the best place to find them.”

“Friends?” asked Stasis, confused.

Star looked surprised. “Yes, friends. You do know what friends are, don’t you lad?” He sounded concerned.

“Yes….” Stasis answered hesitantly. Of course he knew what friends were…ponies had them all the time. They were sort of like family; you formed symbiotic relationships with them for mutual protection. He just wasn’t sure what he needed friends for…especially pony friends, for Discord’s sake. What was he supposed to do with those, anyway? He had only met the one pony so far, and that one was really only useful for his house and potaters.

The not-particularly-useful pony continued, “Well, it’s definitely important for a little one like yourself to learn mathematics, science, magic, and whatnot. It’s even more important that you learn how to work hard, discipline yourself – the heavens know I’m not going to keep doing it for you – and set and follow through on goals. Those things, they’ll let you follow your dreams, no matter where they take you.” Star raised a hoof emphatically. “But the most important thing in life are others, lad. Friends and family will get you through.”

Stasis laughed and laughed and laughed. Then, noticing the old pony’s expression, he realized that Star hadn’t been joking. Which didn’t make it any less funny, but now it was kind of sad too.

“You’ve got issues, lad,” Star said matter-of-factly. Stasis wasn’t sure what that was supposed to mean.

Still…one aspect of the old pony’s statement left him confused.

“So where are your friends and family?” he asked. He suspected that the wizard didn’t have any; after all, who would voluntarily want to know or be related to somepony as heartless and cruel as Star? Not Stasis, that was for sure.

Star frowned, his wrinkles making him seem even more ancient than usual as his gaze grew a bit distant. After a few moments of uneasy silence, Stasis began to grow afraid that he had said something to upset the old pony more than was safe. He didn’t want to get teleported again; that had been scary.

But after a few more moments, Star sighed, and his voice was cool as he said, “I suppose that’s enough sermons from me for one morning, lad. Come along. Let’s fix breakfast.”

Relieved and ravenous, Stasis trotted after the large pony.

After they had fixed and eaten breakfast – which included plenty of boiled asparagus, yum – they swiftly washed the dishes and proceeded to the main room. The ‘living’ room it was apparently called, bringing to mind images of slowly shifting walls, wheezing windows, and a fire in the hearth which pulsed with some silent heartbeat, which was all exactly how the little changeling would have imagined the room back when Star was a terrifying warlock and not just some grumpy old geezer who liked to boss Stasis around. The not-terrifying unicorn gestured to two large saddlebags, beside each of which was a small mountain of pony junk.

“Those are your school supplies,” he said. “We need to leave soon if we’re going to get you to school on time, lad, so pay attention while I show you what does what.”

“School supplies?” Stasis queried.

“Yes. You will be carrying them to and from school five days a week.”

Stasis looked at the mounds of miscellany looming before him, and then up at the old unicorn. “Are you sure?” he asked with a hope born of desperation.

“Yes. Now pay attention.”

Star proceeded to explain about pencils, pens, erasers, rulers, liquid glue, stick glue, construction paper, poster paper, lined paper, blank paper, graph paper, scissors, paper clips, highlighters, colored markers, permanent markers, staplers, staples, and all the other things a studious little pony needs. There were notebooks, textbooks, and carefully labeled folders for each and every subject from world history to basic thaumaturgy. Star even threw in an abacus, a sextant, and an astrolabe, ‘just in case.’

By the time the last item went in the bag, Stasis felt as if his education had progressed immeasurably. He now knew how draft ponies were made, for one, and he suspected he knew how the royal guard kept their bodies so strong and their moods so dour.

Despite the changeling’s narrow frame, he was quite strong, especially compared to soft city ponies like these. Nevertheless, he found his legs quivering slightly at first under the incredible burden of all this knowledge.

“Are…are you sure I really need this much stuff?” Stasis asked, breathing slightly labored as he grew used to the weight. “I mean…do all the other ponies carry this much stuff just for school?”

“Not at your age, no,” Star replied. “But most ponies your age are in the first grade. You, on the other hoof, will be attending the fifth grade.”

Stasis’ eyes nearly popped out of his head. “What? But…but…but….”

The old pony’s tone was firm as he said, “No buts, lad. After three days with you, I feel it safe to say that you would be bored out of your skull in the first grade. The fifth grade will be much more of a challenge.”

Stasis had found that being challenged was less fun than one might think. Thinking quickly, he said, “But…the other ponies will be –“

“Nearly twice your age, aye. But I have faith in you, lad. You can handle it.” Star started walking towards the door, bells jingling. “Now come along; we have to leave now if we’re going to get to your school before class starts.”

Left with no other choice, Stasis shifted the saddlebags into a more comfortable position and followed after the large pony, out the door, past the gate, and into the city for the first time since he had been separated from his family. After a few minutes, pony houses made way for the taller, plainer buildings of the downtown area, like a forest of square, lifeless brick-and-mortar trees that towered above the little changeling.

But he would not be so easily intimidated by such things, nor by the crowds of innately hostile ponies that surrounded him on all sides, despite how alone he now was. He just had to remember what things were like before, when these selfsame creatures were weeping and screaming and fleeing from him and his family. They were prey, and if he could manipulate a powerful wizard like Star Swirl, he could certainly deal with the like of these.

But then he saw two alabaster unicorns marching slowly down the center of the street, golden armor flashing in the morning sun, faces of stone but eyes sweeping inexorably back and forth, inspecting every pony in sight, searching for something, someone. Few of the surrounding ponies so much as looked at the pair, so obviously out of place in this would-be peaceful place, instead parting wide around them as a river is parted by a rock. Every few seconds one of the two would settle his gaze on one pony in particular and his horn would glow for a few moments, casting some silent spell before he would turn his scrutiny on somepony else, continuing his hunt.

Stasis felt his heart hammer in his chest. He experimentally tried to beat his wings inside the masque, but the left one still hurt, still wouldn’t work right. If he was discovered here, in the heart of Trottingham, there would be no escape.

Almost without thinking, he drew up alongside his escort, keeping the large pony between himself and the royal guards. He was so close that Star Swirl nearly tripped over him several times, but the old unicorn said nothing, simply continuing his languid pace. As they passed the soldiers Star nodded at them and, peeking between the large pony’s legs, Stasis was surprised to see the guards actually nod back respectfully before returning to their mission. If they noticed the little pseudo-pony at all, they gave no sign.

After seeing several more pairs of unicorn guards patrolling the city, it was a relief when they finally arrived at the school. A low, rectangular brick building, it was somewhat incongruous, appearing old and worn compared to the surrounding construction. Around it stretched an actual yard, with real grass and everything, a rarity in this part of the pony town. Behind the building he thought he could make out what must be a playground, something he had only heard stories about.

Star Swirl paused a few paces in front of the entrance and looked down at the little changeling. “Now, lad, do you remember the way we got here?”

Stasis blinked. “Um…yes?” It had been almost a straight shot from the old unicorn’s house to the school. As strange as this city was, he was pretty sure he couldn’t get lost if he didn’t stray from the main road.

Star nodded, the tip of his beard brushing the gravel walkway as he did so. “Good. You’ll be making that trip twice a day, five days a week, so you’d best not forget it.”

“What? You mean you won’t be taking me yourself?” An hour ago he might have jumped at the unexpected liberty, but now the thought of having to go back and forth truly alone in a city infested with those golden butchers made his heart quicken again.

The bearded pony nodded. “Aye. But don’t you worry, lad. Recent events notwithstanding, this is one of the safest cities in the safest country in the known world. You’ll be fine.”

“But….”

“And if anypony should stop you – and I doubt they will – then tell them that you’re under my care and protection right now, and then they should leave you alone. Today and maybe tomorrow I’ll be spending the morning at city hall, and I should be back at the house before school’s out. Most days I’ll be at the house all day. If for whatever reason you ever get lost, you can ask pretty much anypony and there’s a good chance they’ll know how to get to my house.” Star raised an eyebrow. “Do you understand, lad?”

“But…but what about the guards?” Stasis asked desperately. He wasn’t sure what spell those unicorns had been casting on ponies, and he really, really didn’t want to find out.

“Don’t mess with them,” Star responded, tone serious. “Our constabulary was nearly wiped out in the attack, and Princess Celestia was kind enough to loan us quite a few of her own royal guards until we can train new ones. But the guards are some of the most elite troops in the world, and they have more important things to attend to than one mischievous colt. You’re not to speak to them for any reason. Do you understand?”

“Yes Sir….” Stasis responded glumly. He would sooner gnaw off his own hind leg than have anything to do with those guards, or their goddess.

Star nodded. “Good. Come along then; I’ve got to speak to your teacher before I go, so I’ll take you to your class.” The elderly pony opened the door and walked into the school, Stasis following close behind.

As soon as they entered, a mare whom Stasis assumed was a receptionist looked up from her book and gasped. “Mr. Swirl! I…um…is there something I can do for you?” She quickly slipped the hardcover under her desk and put on a strained smile, fidgeting.

Like a mouse in a trap, Stasis thought, chuckling darkly to himself. He suddenly felt better about getting bossed about all the time by the cranky old pony. At least he put up a fight, unlike this mare.

If Star Swirl noticed her discomfiture, he didn’t show it. “Aye,” he said. “I’m here to drop off my ward. If you’d tell me where the fifth grader’s room is, I’d be grateful.”

“Fifth…grader?” She looked at Stasis and blinked. He gave her a predatory smile in return, showing lots of teeth. She drew back slightly.

“Aye. That’s what I said,” Star replied gruffly.

The receptionist’s eyes flicked back and forth between the two of them for a moment. “Okay…um…the fifth grader’s room is just down the hall there, last room on the right.” She pointed towards the rear of the building.

“Thank you, Miss,” the old pony replied, already walking in that direction. Stasis gave the receptionist one last wink before trotting after his guardian.

By the time they reached the final door, however, the little changeling’s mood had sobered again, and his nervousness returned in force. As much as he had come to dislike the old pony’s tyrannical attitude, Star had become something of an anchor for him in this mad pony world, and now he was about to be left by his own again in the midst of his enemies, a thin masque all that stood between him and destruction. Most changelings weren’t supposed to carry out their first solo infiltration until they were adults, and as a prince his training was purely in case of contingency; yet the contingency had come, and here he was, in the belly of the beast, one little Stasis against a pack of vicious pony children twice his size. As the old unicorn opened the door and entered the room, Stasis held back, reluctant to cross that final threshold.

The teacher – a yellow earth pony with a thick white mane and a smiling sun as a cutie mark – paused in midsentence, looking startled.

“Oh! Mr. Swirl! What a…delightful surprise!” She turned back to her class, most of whom were watching the bearded pony with wide eyes.

“Class, this is Mr. Star Swirl, personal protégé to Princess Celestia and one of the greatest conjurers in history. Say, ‘Hello, Mr. Swirl!’”

Personal protégé to Princess Celestia?

A few students mumbled hello’s, but most still looked to be in a mild state of shock at the sudden appearance of the apparently-famous pony. Star just mumbled, “One of the greatest?”

The teacher, now wearing a smile which seemed much more authentic than the receptionist’s, turned back to the old unicorn and said, “Please, Mr. Swirl. What can I do for you?”

“I’m not here to give a speech or anything, Miss. Just dropping off my ward on his first day of school.”

The mare blinked. “Ward? I’m sorry, I don’t….” It was then that her – and the rest of the classes’ – eyes were drawn to the little changeling-turned-pony who stood just outside the room, his snout peaking inside the door. He drew back quickly.

“Yes, my…wait, where…?” Star Swirl looked about his hooves for a moment before turning around, irritation flickering across his face.

“Lad! Get in here, before I have to teleport you in.”

Stasis hesitated one last time before reaching his foreleg across the boundary between hall and room. Committed now, he avoided the stares of the legion of students, instead keeping his gaze firmly planted on Star’s hindquarters. Hoping that everypony would forget about him again.

The teacher’s smile was gone now, replaced by an expression of concern. She looked at Star and said, “Mr. Swirl…I’m afraid that there’s been some kind of misunderstanding….”

“No, I don’t think so,” Star replied firmly, then added, “Miss, I think you and I should speak in private.”

“Um…sure….” The teacher looked at the class, her smile strained again. “Class, please wait here quietly while Mr. Swirl and I talk in the hallway.”

The two of them walked past Stasis, shutting the door behind them. Having not the faintest idea what he was supposed to do now, he just stood there, staring blankly in front of him, trying to remain calm and collected. Still, he couldn’t block the muffled words from the door behind him, or the loud whispers of the students.

“Star Swirl’s so old, he probably just got the wrong room….”

“Maybe he’s just really small? You know, like a dwarf pony or something?”

“No, look! He doesn’t even have his cutie mark yet, for Celestia’s sake….”

“What the heck’s a ward?”

A few minutes of this went by, with most of the students no longer bothering to whisper. Stasis had heard his older siblings speak of the loneliness and deep longing for home they felt when they went on infiltration missions to bring back energy for Mother and the family. He had always thought that they were just being weaklings; he would often remind them that he would have to leave the family once and for all after he reached puberty, and would live alone forever afterwards, much as the dragons did. After all, for a prince to live with a family would be to favor one of his queens above the others, and that would lead to strife.

Now, though, he felt himself missing his old ubiquitous brothers and sisters. He longed even for Mother; if there was one thing to be said about her, it was that he had never feared anything else while she was near.

He jumped a little as the door opened behind him and the teacher walked past him to the wooden desk at the front of the room. Smiling at the students, she said, “Class, say hello to your newest classmate, Stasis!”

There were a smattering of hello’s from around the room, some of them heartfelt, some of them not-so-much.

The teacher looked down at the little changeling, her pink eyes meeting his bright yellow ones. “Stasis, please take any available seat.”

Stasis looked longingly back at the door behind him, but it was already closed and the old pony gone. Instead sweeping his gaze across the columns of desks, trying not to meet anypony’s eyes, he tried to spot an empty seat. Unfortunately, he was too short to see over the first few rows.

After a few moments of awkward silence, somepony in the back raised an orange hoof, waving it wildly.

“Over here! Over here! Ooh! Ooh! Over here!”

Seeing no other choice, Stasis began making his way towards the rear of the room, the straps on his saddlebags feeling especially tight across his back at the moment. He tried to watch his step, but many of the students had simply dumped their bags next to their seats and he nearly tripped several times. His own bags kept knocking others over, and although nopony said anything, he could see irritated glances out of the corner of his eye.

It wasn’t until he reached the empty seat at the very back of the class that he realized it would have probably been much easier to go around the edges of the room and approach from the rear. Stupid ponies and their stupid classroom designs….

The teacher, so far away now, said, “Alright, class, now where were we…oh yes! We were going to diagram a sentence! Here, let me write the first one on the board….”

Now that he was safely ensconced in the rear of the room, Stasis felt his apprehension begin to be replaced with boredom. He noted that the teacher’s perpetually smiling, cheerful demeanor was reminiscent of the time Nit had found a bottle of hard cider and bet Thor that he could drink it all at once.

“Hey!”

Stasis jumped slightly as the orange pony to his right leaned across the aisle and stuck out his hoof.

“My name’s Major!” the pony whispered fiercely. “It’s great to meet you, Stasis!”

“Uh…hi?” Stasis replied, tentatively shaking the proffered hoof as per pony custom. The colt’s smile was so large and bright that, were it being worn by a changeling, would surely have marked the bearer as deranged and in need of culling.

“It’s great that we get to sit next to each other, isn’t it?” the orange pony continued excitedly. “I’ve never sat next to the ward of the protégé of Princess Celestia before! I’m feeling super important right now!”

“Major!” The teacher called from the front of the room. “Please keep quiet and pay attention during class.”

“Yes, Miss Brighten!” the pony called back cheerfully.

As soon as the teacher turned around, Major leaned over again and said, “Sorry, Stasis! We can talk more during recess, okay?”

“Okay?” Stasis replied hesitantly. He wasn’t sure he wanted to talk to this pony; he seemed crazy.

With his desk-neighbor now occupied playing with his pencil and tapping out jingles on his desk with his hooves, Stasis tried to pay attention to the instructor, but another problem quickly presented itself. While he could at least get the gist of most of what the teacher was saying, the lines she wrote on the board meant nothing to him. It was terribly frustrating, and after a few minutes he just gave up and let his imagination wander while the teacher droned on and on and on.

After a time the teacher progressed from grammar to science, which Stasis found to be much more interesting. Which is to say, he found it mildly interesting. It was somehow both intriguing and disturbing to learn that the world operated only partly by magic.

Still, there was only so much excitement one could derive from studying the reproductive systems of flowers. His eyelids had begun to grow heavy when somepony rapped loudly three times on the door. All of the children immediately perked up.

The teacher paused midsentence. “Oh! Alright, children. You know what that means. Everypony have fun during recess!”

But half the class was already stampeding for the door, the rest following right after. Stasis was tempted to believe that class was already over for the day, but the minefield of saddlebags strewn around the room gave the lie to that thought. Not wishing to be left out, he followed the other students out the door, through another door, and into the playground at the rear of the building.

There he was surprised to note that they weren’t the only class that had recess at that time. There was one group of ponies about his size, and another that were so big that they seemed more like small adults than children. The younger ones had pretty much monopolized the actual playground equipment, while the larger ones mostly stood about talking with each other. Miss Brighten stood with two other adults next to the entrance to the building, chatting and drinking some steaming beverage out of little cups.

Stasis watched with some enchantment as the little ponies swung and slipped and slid about on their apparatuses of fun. Changelings didn’t have playgrounds, or even play at all, at least not like this. His elder siblings had to do things like hunt, fish, scout, mentor their younger siblings, and perform the myriad other tasks Mother assigned them; what free time they had was often spent lounging about, gossiping about each other, telling and listening to stories. Younglings had fewer responsibilities and sometimes played a few simple games like tag and masquerades, a game where everyling dressed up like ponies and tried to guess who was who.

Mostly, though, younglings had contests of strength, skill, or just plain fought each other. Mother encouraged this; she said that it was better they be bruised and bitten as younglings than die as adults. Still, watching the colts and fillies playing in their own way, he wondered if Mother would let him make a swing or something when he got back. It didn’t seem right that ponies should have such things while his own family went without.

“Hey!”

Stasis jumped, his reverie broken. An orange face appeared in front of him.

“Isn’t this great? Even if you get sent back to the first grade, we’ll still get to play together at recess! I’m really excited.”

Stasis glared at the crazy pony. “I’m not going to get sent back to the first grade! In fact….” He thought for a moment. “In fact, Star Swirl was going to put me in the fifteenth grade until I reminded him how stupid that would make all of you look.”

Major stared at him in amazement. “Wow, that’s cool! Hey, do you want to play?”

Stasis eyed the colt suspiciously. “Play? Play what?”

The pony shrugged. “I don’t know. I hadn’t really thought that far. Hey, look!” Major pointed at a unicorn filly, one with a coat and mane of different shades of brown who was sitting off by herself on the grass and reading a book.

“It’s Abra! She’s, like, a huge Star Swirl fan. Let’s go say hi!” He trotted off quickly and, feeling rather awkward just standing there, Stasis soon followed.

Major walked up to the filly with an idiot grin on his face. “Heya Abra! Whatcha reading?” He looked down at her book, which had no pictures that Stasis could see.

“Don’t talk to me,” the unicorn replied coolly. She flipped a page with her magic. Still no pictures.

Major nodded. “That’s cool.” He turned to the changeling. “Hey, Stasis, this is my friend Abra. She’s super smart. I mean, I feel smart just being in the same class as her!”

“I’m not your friend,” the filly replied with more force this time, though she never took her eyes off the book.

If Major heard her, he didn’t show it. “Abra, this is my friend Stasis. He’s the new kid in class. We should play together!”

The unicorn, looking up from her book for the first time, saw Stasis and blinked.

“Stasis? You’re Star Swirl’s pupil, right?”

“Um…yes?” He didn’t really like the idea of being considered the old pony’s pupil; after all, he was the one tricking Star Swirl and touching his stuff and eating all his potaters, not the other way around. Still, being a grieving orphan was hard, thankless work, and hadn’t gotten him very far with Star; he would rather just be the old pony’s pupil instead.

The brown filly stood up and looked him up and down critically.

“Well, you don’t look so smart to me.”

Stasis stared at her for a moment. Was she calling him stupid? Was this pony girl calling him stupid?

She pushed her mane out of her eyes. “I mean, do you know the names of each of Star Swirl’s published spells? Or each of Princess Celestia’s students for the past thousand years?”

He stared at her. After a few moments, she frowned.

“What?”

“Why,” he asked slowly, “would I want to know stupid things like that anyway?”

“Stupid!” she gasped. “Those things aren’t stupid! You’re stupid!”

His eyes narrowed. “Yeah? Well, if I’m stupid, and I’m Star Swirl the Bearded’s personal protégé…what does that make you?”

She looked at him for a moment, her face contorting in anger. “You…you…stupid little kid!” She levitated her book above her head menacingly. Stasis took a step back in alarm.

“Abra Kadabra!” Miss Brighten appeared suddenly, her smile in the reverse position.

The brown filly’s eyes grew wide, and she set the book down hastily. “Miss Brighten, I…I wasn’t….”

Normally the abrupt appearance of an authority figure meant it was time for Stasis to flee, but in this instance he recognized a pristine opportunity. He gave the teacher big eyes and a quivering lip.

“She…she was going to hit me with that big, heavy book! I was so scared!” He looked away and sniffled.

The teacher glared down at the stunned filly. “Abra Kadabra, I never would have expected this from you. Trying to hurt a student half your age, and on his first day of class!” She shook her head, white mane swaying heavily with her disappointment.

Abra looked to be on the verge of tears. “But…but Miss Brighten, he said-”

Miss Brighten shook her hoof in the filly’s face. “No buts, Abra. Grab your book and come on; we’re going to see the principal.”

The brown filly followed Miss Brighten back inside, managing to look simultaneously both fearful and dejected.

Major looked stricken. “Oh, geeze…wow…okay, um, that didn’t go so well…Stasis? Are you alright?”

Bwahahahahahahaha!

“Stasis?”

Who’s stupid now, pony? Bwahahahahahaha!

An orange face appeared a few inches from his own. “Stasis? Why are you smiling all crazy like that? You’re kinda starting to creep me out.”

Stasis chuckled to himself. “Do you know any other friends we can make, Major? I like making friends!”

Major rubbed the back of his neck. “Oh…um…maybe we should do that later?” He quickly pointed behind Stasis. “Hey, why don’t we play on the swings instead? That’s fun!”

Stasis turned around excitedly, but every available swing still had a pony butt planted in it. He pointed this out.

Major was unperturbed. “Oh, I’m sure we can get them off!” he exclaimed, smiling brightly.

Stasis considered this. He would have thought this kind of thing would get them in trouble, but if Major thought it was okay….

Stasis let his strength well in his horn. He figured that if he pulled one of the earth ponies off at the apex of his swing, that pony would finally get to feel what it was like to be a pegasus.

Well, for a little while, anyway.

…But he was distracted by Major walking up to an actual pegasus who was flapping his little wings wildly, pushing himself much higher than the others.

“Hey! This is my friend Stasis’ first day at school, and he hasn’t had a chance to play on the swings yet. Do you think you could let him have a turn?”

The colt slowed down his swinging, an expression of deep contemplation on his face. “Well…okay. I wanted to play on the roundabout anyway.” Without even waiting to stop, the pegasus jumped off the swing, flittering gently to the ground and galloping over towards the other side of the playground.

Stasis let the magic sink back within himself. “…Oh,” he muttered.

“Come on, Stasis! I got one ready for you!” Major called out. His disappointment immediately forgotten, Stasis cantered over to the swing and claimed it with his backside. He looked at Major. Major looked at him.

“Um…is something wrong?” The orange pony finally asked.

“What do I do now?” Stasis replied. He couldn’t use his wings like the pegasus, and he wasn’t sure how the others were moving about so effortlessly without something to push against. He had thought maybe the swing would do something if he sat there long enough.

“Don’t they have swings where you come from?” Major paused and his eyes widened, as if a thought had exploded in his head. “Hey, where do you come from, anyway? I don’t think I’ve ever seen a pony that looked like you before.”

“A faraway land without any swings,” Stasis replied sadly. “Do you know how this works? Maybe that other pony broke it.”

Major shook his head. “No, you have to…hey! Why don’t I just push you?”

Stasis nodded. “That sounds like a good idea. You should do that.”

Smiling widely, Major moved around behind Stasis and gave him a push. Holding tightly to the chains, Stasis went forward and back…forward and back…forward and back…higher and higher and higher, until he was swinging as high as the pegasus earlier. He fell from a great height, ground rushing to meet him, and suddenly he soared past it and up into the clear blue sky. He nearly chittered with joy, weightless for a moment before he began to fall again.

After a few minutes, Major, puffing slightly, said, “Hey, Stasis…I think they’re about to call us back inside, and I’m getting kinda tired. Maybe we can stop for right now?”

Stasis was about to refuse, but then he had an idea. One technique his family often used in battle was for a warrior to drop rapidly from the sky, forming a cone of magical energies before him that they would explode into the ground on contact; it was called ‘dive-bombing’ and was an effective shock tactic against unprepared foes. It also looked really, really fun. Stasis had begged his siblings to teach it to him, but they said that since he was a prince, he would never need to use such a dangerous attack.

…But his siblings weren’t here, were they? A mad grin spread across his face.

Looking about from his high perch, he saw one of the bigger fillies walking across the playground in front of him. Since he couldn’t use his wings, he had to time things perfectly….

She trotted across the grass casually, her expression mildly vacant, head probably filled with silly pony thoughts. She might have been going to talk to one of her friends on the opposite side of the playground, or perhaps she was just getting a little exercise.

It mattered not. Just as the filly crossed in front of him, he reached the apex of his swing and let go.

“Banzai!” he roared. The filly looked up and, for a brief instant, their eyes met. He smiled wider.

Shrieking, the pony bolted forward just as he crashed into the ground behind her. He cackled as he got to his hooves, uninjured.

“Are you crazy!” she yelled, keeping her distance. “You could have hit me!”

“Bwahahahahahaha!”

Running up, Major said, “Wow! That was really cool, Stasis, but you gotta be careful; you almost hit that girl.”

“Bwahahahahahaha!”

Major looked about to say something else when an adult voice cut across the playground.

“Alright! Recess is over, everypony! Time to get back to class!”

A few moans leapt across the playground, but Stasis practically skipped back to the classroom. There he noticed Abra in the middle of the front row, her expression and posture sullen save for her eyes, which seemed to be trying to stab him. He winked at her, resisting the urge to blow a kiss.

Back in in his seat and in very high spirits – tomorrow he was going to try spinning some of the ponies on the roundabout, he decided – Stasis was pleased to learn that the next subject was history. He had always enjoyed history back with his family in the forest; tales of wizards and warlocks, gods and mortals, brutal wars and legendary weapons. His favorites – everyling’s favorites, actually – were always those rare stories Mother would tell; even though you knew from the tone of her voice that she had told each of them a thousand times before, they were always told in the first person and in the matter-of-fact way that only comes with having lived through each of them.

He was somewhat confused by the ponies’ version of history, though. It started out as many of the best stories did, with the teacher describing the ancient world in broad, sweeping terms, sounding as excited as Stasis felt. But soon he found himself awash in a sea of names and dates and occurrences, each wave beating against him, seeking to drown the little changeling in knowledge.

But what knowledge it was! Even as he sought to keep his head above water, hooves paddling at the tumultuous sea with the sure strokes of intellect and attention, he noted how different everything sounded…how much crisper, clearer things were than in the stories he was used to. Gryphons: large, vicious, merciless predators better fled than fought. Or so he had always imagined.

As the teacher spoke, a different image came to mind: one of bloodthirsty fighters, yes, but ones who thirsted more for each other’s blood than for anyone else’s. And that was back before the princesses had arrived and begun taming their neighbors; now even the gryphons were usually more to be feared on the hoofball field as the battlefield.

And the Minotaurian Empire, so grand and grandiose in Stasis’ imagination, was described by the teacher with such words as ‘vestigial’ and ‘decadent;’ not a vast power to be admired, but a failed enterprise to be scorned, brought low by the mortality of its rulers, every new Imperator weaker than the last.

Changelings, at least, still an aura of mystery about them; the teacher barely mentioned them, but when she did it was with a tone of unease and haste, as if she wanted to move onto the next topic as soon as she could. This was good; everyling knew that ponies were afraid of the dark, and if knowledge was like a light, it was best to keep it as far from himself and his kind as possible. Stasis was a very terrifying creature, he knew, and he wanted to keep it that way.

As the teacher was discussing zebras and how they tied into the post-chaos era, Stasis was excited to have an epiphany of sorts. Knowledge, he realized, was in itself a form of power. Not as tasty as love, maybe, but then love only gave you energy for a short time, while knowledge lasted forever. In fact…if Mother had had a better grasp of history and geography, she surely never would have led her family into Equestria in the first place, and they would never have been so terribly defeated by the sun goddess. The idea that he, Stasis, might soon know more about something than Mother was exhilarating.

…Then there was math. An entire branch of pony education devoted to advanced counting techniques. As the teacher began an in-depth explanation of the proper method for determining the total number of apples in an orchard via ‘multiplication’ of the number of trees and the number of apples per tree, Stasis decided that not all areas of knowledge were created equal.

While the rest of the class was having fun with imaginary apples, Stasis instead decided to follow the example of the first minotaurian king and build his own city. Being unfamiliar with imaginary stone, however, Stasis decided to build his city out of imaginary sticks, leaves, and mud instead. Dubbing it ‘Stasisgrad,’ he proceeded to populate it with many thousands upon thousands of ponies, each of whom he charged a hefty fee for living in his grand metropolis.

Alas, being the kind of ponies to live in an imaginary city made out of imaginary sticks and leaves and mud, they were all quite poor and soon were unable to pay their taxes. Stasis felt his heart go out to these poor, poor ponies. He thought long and hard about how he could help them, but ultimately his hooves were tied; he had already been compelled to hire a small army of mercenary gryphons in order to extract the taxes from his subjects, and if he had no money with which to pay them…well. Everyone knows how ruthless and brutal they can be. Having no other choice, Stasis was forced to take on all the ponies as his indentured servants, putting them to work on his vast potater plantations until they were able to secure the money to pay off their ever-mounting debt.

Meanwhile, the windfall from potater sales was invested in constructing additional Stasis’ Drink-and-Ogle and Casino de Stasis establishments in which local mercenaries could spend their hard-earned money. Suddenly finding himself in possession of prodigious quantities of bits, Stasis felt it behooved him to –

“Stasis? Would you please come up and solve the problem, please?”

The teacher interrupted his future biopic just as things were taking an interesting turn. It seemed that being small and sitting in the rear of the classroom did not excuse him from actually having to participate, as the teacher would not rest until everypony’s mathematical ignorance was exposed for all the class to see. Seeing no other choice, Stasis made the long trek to the front of the room and levitated a piece of chalk with his magic, which seemed to startle the teacher. He observed the problem before him.

To a laypony, it might have been just a bunch of squiggly lines. To Stasis’ critical eye, however, it appeared a complex set of esoteric symbols, clearly possessing some hidden meaning. He stared at it, trying to piece together the order and meaning within the chaos.

Without warning, a cough cut through the silence, shattering his concentration just as he felt himself on the verge of breakthrough. He sighed; he would just have to start over. Resuming his task, he stared at the board with a concentration so intense, he half expected it to burst into flames at any moment.

“Stasis?”

Now it was the teacher who interrupted him. He sighed again and looked at her. He couldn’t work in these conditions.

She looked concerned as she said, “Please return to your seat, Stasis.”

The little changeling did as he was told, making his way past the snickers and Abra’s triumphant expression. But these smart ponies deserved their self-satisfaction; after all, how would things have gone two days before if they hadn’t had their ‘mathematics’ to protect them from his family? The part where Celestia rained down ‘multiplication’ from the heavens had been the most impressive aspect of the whole battle, he thought.

That ordeal finally over, the final subject of the day was a little different; each of the three subspecies of ponies – unicorns, pegasi, and boring old earth ponies – each group split up and went their separate ways. Whereas the earth ponies went out into the playground behind the school and the pegasi went up onto the roof, the unicorns (plus changeling) just stayed in the same class. As Miss Brighten was an earth pony, she left with that group, and a bunch of unicorns from the other grades filed into the classroom. A minute later they were followed by an older unicorn, grey and bony and wearing crescent spectacles high up on his muzzle. He looked much frailer and less imposing than Stasis’ own grumpy old wizard, but when he turned around to face the class his eyes were clear and sharp and quick, taking in the room with a glance, and Stasis sensed wariness and authority coming from the older pony.

The unicorn was silent for a few moments longer before he began smacking his lips, as if loosening them up for the tribulation of speaking. When he did speak, it was in a voice that somehow managed to be both creaky and commanding.

“Hmm…I’m afraid that as Mr. Popping succumbed to his injuries yesterday morning, and as no other replacement is forthcoming, I have no choice but to teach fifth period myself, possibly for the remainder of the semester.” Stasis heard some sniffles from the younger students, which made him uncomfortable. He hadn’t cried for his siblings who had died; he wondered if he was supposed to.

“For those of you who may not know me,” the pony said while looking Stasis dead in the eye, “both my name and position are Principle, and I will be addressed as such. Since this is our first day together, I will now be assessing your respective thaumaturgical strength and skill. Let us begin.”

Starting with the eldest students, Principle began working through the class swiftly and mercilessly. The older students could all levitate single, small objects proficiently, of course, but then they were told to maneuver three, four, five objects at a time, as well as perform a variety of simple transmutation, illusion, and conjuration spells. Most failed miserably; Abra was the only exception, easily performing all the spells the others had failed. If anything, this seemed to make Principle even more dour, and he continued to ask her to perform increasingly difficult spells until her horn fizzled and sparked and she collapsed on her desk in exhaustion. He then moved onto the younger group of students.

When Principle finally made it to the fillies and colts Stasis’ own age, most of them struggled to use any magic at all, their horns apparently only useful for headbutting contests and striking matches. It was only after every other student in the class had been tested that Principle finally turned his attention to Stasis. He looked the masqued changeling over critically for a few moments, his bloodless lips pressed tightly together, before finally using his magic to toss a marble onto Stasis’ desk with a small clack.

“Lift it.”

Finally, a task that did not involve squiggles. Stasis was almost excessively ready. The effort required to lift the marble was only slightly less than it took him to breathe.

Principle threw down a golf-ball next, and Stasis began twirling the two spheres about his head. He could hear a number of other students muttering.

A baseball hit the desk, and he lifted it. A softball next, and it followed suit; a football, and he scoffed as he lifted it into the air. The students were no longer whispering.

Principle’s lips seemed to purse together even tighter. “Now for a simple illusion spell. I want you to-“

But Stasis still had power to spare and an audience to entertain. He made the marble and golf-ball appear as the moon and sun, raising and setting them around his giant head with proficiency and style of which the goddesses could only dream. The football he clothed in a blue cape and hat with little bells which jingled every time it snapped its whip against the now-grey little baseball’s back. He wasn’t sure what to do with the softball, so he just gave it tiny fangs and blue eyes and wings which buzzed as it swooped about the room, diving and bouncing lightly off the heads of the gigantic children below. Some of the smaller ponies looked frightened, but most began to laugh and shout and stomp their hooves with approval.

Stasis felt his previous good spirits returning. He may not know how to multiply, that was true, but he could always learn; these ponies, though, would never be able to do the things he could do. He made eye contact with Abra, who had apparently regained her senses and wiped the drool from her mouth so that she could properly glare at him again.

All was right with the world once more. He gave her another wink.

The Principal did not seem to share his students’ enthusiasm. “Where did you learn to do that?” he asked sharply.

Stasis didn’t really think that was the right question. ‘What could an undeserving wretch such as I have done to earn a student such as this?’ seemed more appropriate. Even ‘Stasis, why you so awesome?’ would have sufficed. Given the question as it was, though, at least Fate had provided him with a convenient lie

“From Star Swirl,” he replied with an angelic smile. While it was true that the open-eye spell was pretty impressive, it was hardly the first illusion that Stasis had learned. He didn’t need an old geezer to teach him how to trick ponies.

The elderly equine leaned in and, with a slightly decayed smell filling his nostrils, Stasis noticed that Principle’s rheumy eyes were the same sharp blue as Star’s. All old ponies had the same color eyes, it seemed.

“Star Swirl the Bearded has better things to do than instruct children on how to rabble-rouse with magic,” Principle said slowly as he dispelled Stasis’ illusions with no apparent effort.

“It’s true,” some random pony said. “He’s Star Swirl’s ward! Star Swirl said so himself when he dropped Stasis off this morning.”

Principle continued to stare at Stasis until the little changeling began to grow uncomfortable. Perhaps he should have waited until there were no adults around to show off his magical talent? What if Principle thought to use the same dispel on Stasis himself? The old pony probably had poor eyesight like Star Swirl; maybe Stasis could explain away his true appearance as just a skin condition.

The Principle opened his mouth to speak, but there was a knock at the door and an explosion of motion as students grabbed their things and flooded into the hall. Giving the Principle an apologetic smile, Stasis threw on his saddlebags and made for freedom.

Out in front of the school, Stasis paused to catch his breath; the bulging saddlebags made fleeing difficult.

“Hey!”

Stasis jumped and then scowled at the orange earth pony that had appeared in front of him.

“Don’t startle me like that!” he shouted. Prey weren’t supposed to surprise predators; it was embarrassing.

“Oh. Sorry.” Major’s smile quickly returned. “Hey, do you think you could show me some of the tricks you did in magic class? Everypony’s talking about how you raised an army of baseball-changelings and used them to attack Principle Principle!”

Stasis chuckled at the memory and was about to brag when a thought occurred to him. “Wait.” He pointed at Major. “How do you know about that? I only did that a minute ago!”

“Gossip travels fast in school, Stasis,” Major replied sagely. He smiled. “And right now everypony’s gossiping about you! A lot of ponies think that you can’t do math because you’re dumb, but I don’t think that; I think you’re really smart, and I’m really lucky to have so many smart friends like you and Abra. And to tell you the truth….” Major looked around at the other students chatting in the schoolyard and lowered his voice. “I didn’t actually know how to do that problem either. Math is hard.”

Stasis frowned. “I only know how to do smart things, not stupid things. Stupid things like ‘multiplication’ are beneath me.”

Major looked suitably impressed. “Wow, that’s really cool. Do you think my mom will let multiplication be beneath me too?”

“You can try,” Stasis offered. In his experience, you never knew what work you could get out of until you tried.

“Awesome! I’ll…hey, look! It’s Miss Brighten! Hello, Miss Brighten!”

Startled, Stasis turned around to find that there was, in fact, a Miss Brighten right behind him. That an authority figure had followed him out into the open seemed ominous.

“Hello, Major,” the pony instructor said amiably before turning her attention to the little changeling. “Stasis would you please give this to Star Swirl when you get home?” She removed a sealed envelope from her saddlebags with her mouth and held it out to him.

He looked it over suspiciously before tentatively grasping it with his magic. “What is it?” he asked edgily. He didn’t much fancy the idea of his teacher and his wizard conspiring together like this.

The teacher smiled in what was probably meant to be a reassuring way. “Just a few remarks regarding your education. Don’t worry; you’re not in trouble or anything. You were very well-behaved in class today, Stasis,” she said before trotting back into the school. Her commendation made him wonder if he could have gotten away with being less well-behaved.

“Whoa! I wish I got a letter from the teacher!” Major declared as the door swung shut behind her.

Stasis ignored the orange pony while he inspected the envelope. He couldn’t see a good way to get at the contents without tearing it open.

“Major? Do you know how to read?” he asked as he fiddled with the envelope. It wouldn’t do him any good to get it open if he didn’t have somepony about who could decode it.

“Huh? Oh.” Major fidgeted a bit. “Well…yeah, I can read. But…I’m not very good at it.”

Stasis nodded absently; he probably wouldn’t need the world’s best reader, just a regular one would do. As he began to get frustrated with the recalcitrant stationery, he asked, “Major, do you know of a way to open this without anypony ever knowing?” As Stasis’ knowledge regarding envelopes and their functions was purely theoretical, he reasoned that an experienced pony like Major might know some techniques that he did not.

But the orange earth pony just looked confused. “Huh?”

“Do you know how to open this without anypony ever knowing?” Stasis repeated irritably, waving the offending rectangle in Major’s face.

Major shook his head. “Sorry, Stasis, I don’t know anything about that…and I don’t really think you’re supposed to open that letter anyway. It’s probably only supposed to be read by Star Swirl.”

Stasis rolled his eyes in exasperation. “That’s why I wanted to open it without anypony ever knowing. If I was allowed to read the letter, I wouldn’t have to go through so much trouble.” He decided that it was just as well that Major was a pony, because he wasn’t clever enough to be a very good changeling.

Major looked nonplussed. “Well…okay.” His expression perked up again. “But hey, what I wanted to ask you is if you wanted to come to the park and play with me and some of the other guys from school.”

Stasis sighed and put the envelope in his saddlebags; he would just have to remember not to give the letter to Star Swirl when he got home. He then looked at Major quizzically and asked, “Park? What park?”

Major pointed down the road, in the opposite direction of Star Swirl’s house. “Trottingham Central Park is just down the road that way. The changelings didn’t really attack it for some reason, so it’s still fine to play in.”

The changelings marched through forest and vale, crossed rivers and marshes, slew manticores and timberwolves to reach Trottingham, and then forgot to attack the patch of grass and trees in the middle of the city? Discord’s tooth, what an oversight! Stasis would be sure to bring this up next time Mother decided to ravage a town. ‘No park shall remain unmolested,’ would be their motto going forward. In fact, while they were at it, why not introduce a program of systematic destruction of all useless pony things? The adults could set fire to any shops carrying knick-knacks and novelty items while the younglings went to work defecating on every statue and monument they came across, like a flock of giant, blood-sucking pigeons –

“Stasis?” Major poked him.

The little changeling blinked. “Oh. Yeah. Um…play what?”

“We’re going to play Frisbee, I think.”

His brow furrowed. “Frisbee? What’s that?” None of his instructors in pony culture and activities had ever mentioned this ‘Frisbee.’

“It’s where you throw a little disk-plate-thing back and forth.” Major smiled. “It’s really fun! You should come and try it.”

Stasis considered this for a moment. A thought occurred to him, and he gave Major a sly look and asked, “Is the disk heavy? Is it sharpened?”

Major looked puzzled again. “Uh, no…it’s pretty light and dull. At least, all the Frisbees I’ve ever played with….”

Stasis felt his interest dwindle. Still, Frisbee had to more exciting than a day with Star Swirl. He nodded and said, “Okay, I guess I can play. You’ll have to show me the way.”

Major beamed. “Sure! And why don’t we stop by the pastry shop on the way there? I’m really, really, really hungry.”

Stasis shook his head. “I don’t have any money.”

He still remembered when his older brothers and sisters had explained to him that you needed money in order to get ponies in shops to give you things, which had seemed ridiculous at the time. What do the ponies do with all that money anyway? he had asked. You couldn’t eat it, you couldn’t play with it, you couldn’t…well, you couldn’t eat it or play with it anyway, and he hadn’t been sure what else you’d want to do it. He had only been able to imagine that everypony must have a cellar stuffed full of bags of bits.

In his family, his brother Coxa had an obsession with collecting teeth; back in their old home in the forest, he had an entire hollowed-out tree stuffed with changeling teeth, beaver teeth, rabbit teeth, squirrel teeth, chipmunk teeth, fruit bat teeth, regular bat teeth, fox teeth, hedgehog teeth, pony teeth…he even had an extremely pretty, big, long fang that he claimed was Mother’s tooth, and that she had given it to him as a gift years ago when it was knocked out in a fight with Father and before a new one grew in, but Stasis thought that was just something Coxa made up to call attention to his stupid collection. It was probably just a manticore tooth or something. Anyway, Stasis had figured all ponies must be sort of like Coxa, what with all their bits and all.

Luckily Keel – one of the least-stupid members of Stasis’ family – had been there to explain to Stasis that to ponies, bits were just another form of power; sort of like love, but small and hard and with a nasty metallic taste. That explained why they all wanted to get as many as they could, and why it formed the second member of Stasis’ triumvirate of power: magic, money, and now memory too. (Memory actually meant ‘knowledge,’ but Stasis really wanted all three words to alliterate).

Of course, his siblings had also told him that you could often just steal things if you really needed to, but it was often best to avoid that kind of thing. Stasis had stolen Coxa’s prized tooth one time, just to see what would happen. Coxa had cried and cried and cried, and when Mother found out what had happened….

Stasis shivered. How she had known it was him who took the tooth, he couldn’t imagine.

“Oh, that’s alright; I’ve got some extra allowance, so I can get both of us something,” said Major cheerfully.

Stasis blinked, his contemplation of economics and criminal justice broken. “Allowance? What’s that?” he asked.

“It’s money your parents give you every week so you can buy stuff.” Major’s expression turned quizzical. “Wait…is Star Swirl your dad or something? I heard one of the other kids say you were probably illegitimate, but I don’t really know what that means.”

Stasis didn’t know what that meant either, but he wouldn’t stand for the orange pony’s insult. “Star Swirl is not my father,” he replied firmly. “He’s just an old wizard who teaches me stuff.” And forced him do stupid chores around the house every day, but Major didn’t need to know about that part.

“Oh.” Major frowned slightly. “So…who are your parents, anyway? Do they know that you’re hanging out with Star Swirl? I think my mom would get onto me if some stranger was dropping me off at school, even if he were a super-famous stranger.”

Stasis figured he should probably change the subject. “So what do you have to do to earn an allowance?” he asked.

Major was smiling again instantly; it seemed to be a habit with him. “Oh, nothing! I get it pretty much no matter what. Well…unless I get in trouble. There was this one time, this one kid in school asked me for my money, and I gave it to him, and then I got in big trouble with Mom and I didn’t get any more allowance for another two weeks. She said that I would probably just blow it all on my friends anyway.” Major paused and looked suddenly contemplative, as if something had just occurred to him.

Wishing to severe that particular train of thought, Stasis quickly said, “You really earn the money just by existing? You breathe, and you get paid for it?” The whole thing sounded like some kind of scam. Stasis liked it.

Previous thought forgotten, Major nodded happily. “Yep! Well….” He looked thoughtful again. “My dad says it’s supposed to teach me ‘monetary responsibility.’ I like my dad, but sometimes it seems like he’s speaking Zebra or something. Does that ever happen with your dad?”

“You shouldn’t question free money,” Stasis said, ignoring the question. He personally never questioned free things, or things he took for free.

Major nodded. “That sounds smart. But hey, we should probably get going; we have to stop by the pastry shop on the way to the park, and the game’s probably already started.” He paused. “Wait. Did you say you wanted to go? You don’t have to go if you don’t want to. I don’t have to go either, I guess, except to the pastry shop, because I’m really really really hungry and Mom’s sandwiches aren’t very good.” He looked about and whispered, “If she asks, though, tell her I love her sandwiches. That’s what Dad told me to say whenever it’s Mom’s turn to cook, because if she believes you then it makes her happy.”

Stasis decided that Major was the weirdest pony ever. And Stasis already knew a pony who had an enormous beard and wore clothes all the time and had tiny little bells on his hat that jingled when he walked. Still, the little changeling wasn’t about to turn up the chance for a meal that didn’t involve nasty chlorophyll. He tucked the concept of ‘allowance’ away for later, to be brought up with Star Swirl at an opportune time, and then pretended to think. After a moment he nodded and said, “Okay. I’ll let you buy me something from the pastry shop, and then we can go to the park and play.”

Major grinned. “Great! Let’s go!” The orange pony took off at a brisk trot, but Stasis had to call to him to slow down; the little changeling’s saddlebags hadn’t gotten any lighter since that morning.

As they walked along, Stasis saw another pair of golden guards patrolling the city, and grew suddenly fearful again. He thought of just going back to the safety of the old pony’s house, but as he considered this, the utter obliviousness of his orange companion to any possible danger somehow gave him comfort. Stasis decided to keep going, but he still made sure that he kept the larger colt between him and the soldiers. That way, if they wanted to get to Stasis they would have to go through Major first.

It wasn’t long before the two of them arrived at a relatively small, multicolored building with a sign in the shape of a large muffin. Stasis appreciated this thoughtful gesture for those changelings who couldn’t read.

Approaching his first taste of consumerism with all courage, Stasis took Major’s proffered bits, which were inedible, and exchanged them for several doughnuts, which were edible. He learned many things inside the pony shop, such as that pastries were much too dry and sweet for his taste, but still far superior to celery. He also learned that shop owners acted very kind and were more than willing to explain about different foods and prices and things as long as they thought you were going to pay them. (That ponies were willing to be subservient for even the possibility of bits was an important point, Stasis thought.) Unfortunately, their visit to the shop was cut short when Stasis learned that public restrooms are typically separated by gender, and the consequences of choosing wrong can be dire.

Having now filled himself fit to burst with sugar, starch, and knowledge, he followed the orange pony to the park. Parks were, just as Stasis had been told, essentially small simulacrums of the real world, but minus the poison joke, hydras, manticores, timberwolves, dragons, and crazed pedophilic warlocks that made the real world so exciting. Still, the feel of the low-cut grass underhoof gave Stasis a satisfying feeling of dominance. He decided that he was going to make a park when he got home, after he built a swing and before he went to work on Stasisgrad.

Near the center of the park there was a small group of ponies, a few younger than Major but all older than Stasis, already occupied throwing about a small red disk. Major held up a hoof and shouted.

“Hey, guys! It’s me and Stasis, the new guy at school! You remember him?”

A few of the ponies said hi, but others just muttered to each other. One of them turned to another and said, “Pierce, he’s too young to play. He’ll slow the whole game down.”

The pony named Pierce, an azure earth pony with a stylized eye for a cutie-mark, gave Stasis a dismissive look.

“He’s right, Major. He’s too small. Maybe he can play with the kids over there,” he said, gesturing towards a group of fillies who were jumping over a rope again and again and again.

Stasis had to admit, the rope-jumping did look quite enticing. Still, he didn’t appreciate being so casually dismissed, and was about to protest when Major interrupted him.

With a whining tone the orange pony said, “Aw, come on, Pierce! He can play. Just give him a chance.”

Pierce seemed to consider this a few moments before shrugging and then nodding to the pony who had the disk clenched in his teeth. That one turned so that his body was at right angles to Stasis; he then jumped up in the air, twisting his body and snapping his head at the same time, sending the Frisbee straight at Stasis at high speed. The changeling tried to catch it in his mouth, but he’d hardly had to use that particular orifice for anything but talking and biting and gnawing since he’d come into his magic. The disk bounced off his cheek and hit the ground behind him.

“You’re supposed to catch it with your mouth, not your face!” somepony who probably thought he was really clever called out.

Pierce, however, just said, “We’ll let him play, but you’ll need to help him, Major. Stand behind him and try to catch any he misses so that the game doesn’t slow down too much.”

“Yes Sir!” the orange pony replied. Major ran around behind Stasis, snatched up the disk, and held it out to Stasis. The changeling took it and, trying to imitate the motion of the other pony, he jumped, twisted, snapped, and let go. The disk went wide to the left and fell far short.

“Come on, dude!” called out somepony who probably thought that playing Frisbee when you were only six or possibly seven years old was really easy. “Whip that body! You gotta whip it!”

I’m going to whip something, you –

But the Frisbee was flying towards him again, and again Stasis tried to catch it, and again he failed spectacularly. Major had to collect yet another missed Frisbee so that Stasis would be able to botch another throw. This continued for quite a while, with Stasis finally catching a few despite the occasional heckle from the others. The colts – of which there were seven besides him and Major, he noted – mostly didn’t seem to want him there, but they all obeyed Pierce with no more than an occasional mutter.

Suddenly the Frisbee was spinning his way, cutting silently through the air a good bit above mouth-level. Stasis decided it was time to show these ponies what he could really do. He dropped low to the ground, tensing his haunches, and then gave a grand leap towards the heavens. Like a mighty eagle he soared, limbs outstretched, the wind tousling his mane. He saw the Frisbee coming on fast, curving towards him, and he twisted in midair, opening his mouth wide to catch it. And catch it he did, the small flying disk striking him dead in the throat at high speed.

Like a mighty meteor he fell, limbs flailing, grass rushing forward to catch him. Luckily his face was there to break his fall as he crashed in a coughing heap, spitting dirt out of his mouth. The sound of pony laughter reached his ears.

Major tapped his shoulder, expression and tone concerned. “Hey, are you alright, Stasis? That looked like it hurt!”

Stasis waved off his pony companion with one hoof, the other rubbing at his poor gullet. He felt blood rushing to his face to mix with his embarrassment, and he grew angry. Picking up the Frisbee again, he threw it at one of the ponies as hard as he could. This time it hooked to the right, though he at least got the distance right.

The colt who went to pick it up gave Stasis a menacing look.

“Look, maybe you should play with kids your own age, huh? I mean, you can’t catch, you can’t throw, and you pretty much just suck at Frisbee in general.”

Stasis bit back a hiss, instead opening his mouth for a reply involving a certain pony’s parentage when Pierce interrupted him.

“Hey!” the blue unicorn barked. “Watch yourself, Cleave. That’s not how we talk around here.”

Cleave just snorted dismissively. He picked up the Frisbee in his mouth and, in one smooth motion, whipped it at Stasis.

…Or not. It was an excellent throw, curving just right so that it would reach its apex high over Stasis’ head before crashing into the ground behind him.

This Stasis saw in a glance. This, Stasis decided, would not stand. He focused on the Frisbee, let his power course through his horn, and the disk stopped dead above the changeling’s head.

“Hey!” shouted the colt named Cleave – an earth pony, Stasis noted. “That’s not fair! No mag-“

The pony’s de trop comments were interrupted by a swift disk between the eyes.

Stasis pointed his ears forward and lifted a hoof up to one of them. “I’m sorry, I didn’t quite catch that.”

Another random, easily forgettable colt – a pegasus this time – stepped forward and said, “He was saying that magic isn’t-“

Thunk. The pony went cross-eyed and stumbled.

Stasis looked back at Major, whose eyes were shifting back and forth between Stasis and the Frisbee that was hovering menacingly over the other ponies, his mouth forming an o.

“Nopony seems to be finishing their sentences today,” Stasis said conversationally, shrugging. “How strange.”

“Hey!” shouted Pierce. “You think it’s funny to beat up on other ponies?”

Stasis actually thought it was very funny to beat up on ponies, and right now he felt quite in need of some comic relief. Alas, but Pierce didn’t seem to have a very good sense of humor.

“But I was just throwing them the Frisbee,” Stasis replied with all innocence. “Maybe they should go play with kids their own age?” He smiled. “I mean, they can’t catch, they can’t throw, and they pretty much just suck at Frisbee in general.”

Stasis could feel Pierce begin to grow angry. “I know that you’re new around here,” the azure pony began, “so I’ll explain the rules to you: no flying. No magic. And no hitting.”

Stasis didn’t like rules. He saw how the other ponies were all looking at Pierce, looking at him for leadership, and Stasis decided that if there were going to be rules, he’d rather be the one who made them.

He took a step forward.

“I think we should have new rules,” he offered. “I think everypony should be able to play the game the best they can, without handicaps.”

Pierce shook his head. “That’s not fair when some ponies can fly or use magic and others can’t. That’s why we play the earth pony way: mouths and hooves only.” He gave Stasis a hard look. “If you don’t like it, don’t play.”

“Yeah, it’s true, we all sorta of agreed about the whole no-wings-no-magic thing when we first started playing here in the park. It just made sense because – “

“Quiet, Major!” Stasis snapped, not taking his eyes off of Pierce.

“Oh…okay.”

Stasis narrowed his gaze at his foe. “You know what’s really not fair, Pierce? It’s not fair that earth ponies like you weren’t born as pegasi or unicorns or alicorns or dragons or changelings or…or…or any of the other thousand thousand things that are better than earth ponies! Maybe what’s really not fair is that I have to make myself suck just because they do.” He bopped one of the sucky ponies on the nose with the Frisbee to illustrate his point.

“That’s…that’s….” Pierce shook his head again, though this time he seemed to be collecting himself. “Okay. That’s enough. Time for you to go, Stasis.”

Stasis eyed the colts facing him. All of them seemed content to stand back and let Pierce deal with things. That worked just fine for the little changeling; he had a new game in mind. He lowered his head, pointing his small horn at the blue earth pony and pawed the ground with one hoof.

“Why don’t you make me?” he said. He had wanted to say something really epic and witty to initiate the confrontation, but nothing came to mind. When he finished playing Frisbee with Pierce, he decided that he would spend some time thinking up little catchphrases and clever remarks he could shout before he beat somepony up.

“Don’t be childish, Stasis. Just –”

The Frisbee popped the unicorn right in the cutie-mark, and Pierce jumped. For a few moments he just stared at Stasis, as if he couldn’t wrap his mind around what had just happened

“Are you out of your mind?”

Stasis smiled wide. The ponies may not have been able to see his fangs through his masque, but they were there. They were there.

“You are. You’re mad. If –“

Pop. Pierce jumped again, and this time Stasis could sense the large colt beginning to grow very angry indeed.

“That’s enough. Hit me again, you little devil, and I’ll –“

Pop. Pierce jerked forward. He narrowed his eyes, tossed his mane, gave an angry snort, and charged.

When Stasis had first grown old enough for speech, Mother had declared to the entire family that when it came to quarrels with siblings, he would get no more protection than any other of her children: that is to say, as long as no serious harm was done, she would not interfere.

“To wean you from your weakness,” she had explained to him as she lay reposed in her nest. “I protected you to my utmost when you grew quietly within me, and I did not yet know what you were. I protected you when you slumbered still in your egg, and I warmed you with my own flesh even as I warm your siblings now. I protected you when you were yet a hatchling, your shining sunflower eyes finally open to the world and its manifold dangers. I shall continue to share my very love and strength with you for as long as you are with me, even as I am blood-bound to do for all those born of my body, but henceforth you must learn to protect your own self. We shall not remain together forever; nor for very long at all, I fear.”

Stasis hadn’t really understood what she meant then; all he had known was that she frightened him, and that any of his siblings that took the opportunity to pick on him were going to get their wings plucked off and their mouths stuffed with dirt the moment he grew up.

Now, though, the fights he’d gotten into back with his family didn’t seem quite as bad as they had at the time. Pierce was big and strong, that was true, but he had no fangs, or magic, or wings, and he was just a pony, not a fierce warrior like Stasis and his siblings. Indeed, for all of Mother’s talk of ‘protection,’ it wasn’t going to be Stasis who needed protection in this fight. He wondered what Mother would think of that.

Dashing out of the way of the onrushing pony, he was able to both run and use the Frisbee to smack his prey across one cheek and then the other. Pierce paused for a bare moment before resuming the chase, his expression dangerous.

“Stop that right now, Stasis! This isn’t funny!”

Stasis cackled gleefully as he pranced away from his lumbering pursuer. Darting about in a wide circle around Pierce, he dodged and weaved around the surrounding colts like a bee amongst summer flowers, ready to take any nectar which pleased him and sting all who disapproved. When one torpid daisy looked about to snag him, he bopped the offending blossom right in the muzzle with the Frisbee, brooking no interference in this glorious battle.

Even as Stasis flew about, however, Pierce dashed to and fro, trying to cut the little bee off, much like a cunning spider weaving his web. Perhaps against an ordinary bee, this might have worked. Perhaps an ordinary bee might have faltered, only to be caught and consumed, yet one more casualty in the great chain of life.

But Stasis was no ordinary bee.

Again and again and again he stung the spider, his stinger zipping about, striking face, neck, flank, belly, hindquarters. The bumbling arachnid grew slower and slower, sides heaving and coat beginning to sheen with sweat as he galloped.

“Stasis!” He shouted in his strange spider tongue. “I swear, if you hit me one more time –“

The bee jammed his stinger in his foe’s mouth. Spiders weren’t supposed to talk.

Around and around they ran, the bee’s limbs, honed and sculpted in that greatest of flower fields which was the forest, easily kept him a pace ahead of the spider’s long, gangly limbs. The spider spit the stinger out after a while, which was convenient as it allowed the bee to begin stinging him again.

“Look, look, guys…” said a familiar orange flower as he stepped into the middle of the battleground. “Why don’t we just –“ The flower ducked an oncoming stinger. “Why don’t we just…um…uh…talk this out? Let’s just stop fighting and –“

“To the death!” shouted the bee, laughing madly, all thoughts of peace and mercy drowned in bloodlust. Sensing his foe’s exhaustion, the bee decided that it was time to strike the final blow. He bolted swiftly between the orange flower’s legs, using him as a living shield against his pursuer.

As the spider stumbled around the flower, the bee tackled him in the legs, hard. The spider crashed onto his face and just lay there, panting. The bee began stinging his foe’s prone body.

“Bwahahahahahahaha!” buzzed the mighty bee. “I am the best Frisbee player ever!”

The flowers, who had been appropriately quiet throughout the entire encounter, looked at each other with grim expressions and then began advancing on the bee in a most un-vegetative way.

“Stasis!” called out a gruff voice from behind, dispelling the little bee’s joy.

“Yes?” said the bee with the innocence of a thousand hatchlings. Turning about, he saw what he had feared: the bee’s greatest enemy, a hairy old bear towering above him. He put on a strained smile.

The bear raised a bushy eyebrow. “Oh? Glad to see me, huh? That’s good, lad. That’s real good. I’ve been looking for you for over two hours, and let me say, I’m thrilled to see you.”

The bear didn’t look thrilled to see the bee. The bee was beginning to think he should buzz off while he had the chance.

“I know what you’re thinking, lad,” growled the bear. “You’re thinking, ‘Oh, Star Swirl’s been looking all over town for me, now he’s going to forget all about how I just disappeared without telling anypony where I was going and how I just beat up the Chief Constable’s son because he’s just so happy to see me!’” The bear leaned down, his face inches from the bee’s. “Think again, lad. Think. Again.”

“I didn’t beat up anypony!” the bee buzzed automatically. The bear looked over the bee’s shoulder suggestively, and that was when the bee remembered that he was still stinging the spider’s now-purple rump. Whoops.

“Lad, you are in a whole heap of trouble.”

Stasis didn’t feel like a mighty bee anymore. He decided that now was as good a time as any to overcome his fear of teleportation and, turning about, he began to flee.

“Oh, for Celestia’s sake….”

The little changeling had hardly fled at all when the world turned blue and he suddenly found himself the chewy center of a magical sphere floating a few paces off the ground. He began paddling his legs furiously, trying to swim away from his captor, but to no avail; all he succeeded in doing was giving himself torque so that now he was spinning around inside his bubble. As he turned, a big, hairy, upside-down thundercloud came into view.

“Lad?” rumbled the thundercloud ominously. “I’m so upset with you right now, I’m afraid that if I say anything, it’ll be something I’ll regret. So I think it’s best if we’re both quiet until we get home.”

Stasis felt his bubble begin to move, following after the departing wizard. As he rotated, he saw the other ponies come back into view. Several were helping Pierce to his hooves, and the rest were glaring at him. Well, except for Major, who seemed to be in a mild state of shock. With no way to escape, Stasis just waved sadly to his companion.

Star Swirl's Extreme Guide to Parties Great and Small

Guests, guests, guests. Ponies filed in, singles and doubles and families too, to be greeted zealously by their orange comrade at the door. Per Star Swirl’s command, the guests were appearing with at least some semblance of clothing to mark the seriousness of the event, but Major had outdone them all. His mane was slick and moussed and combed, his forward torso and legs sporting a dapper black suit, quite well-fitted, and a black bow tie nestled comfortably at the base of his throat. Had he not also been wearing a huge grin as he welcomed the guests, Stasis might have actually taken him seriously, looking as he did now.

Sighing, Stasis scratched idly with one hoof at his own covering, a simple white Neighru jacket that he thought looking rather dashing. A pity that such close-fitting clothing over his masque had the feel of little ants crawling and nipping at his young, tender flesh. He wondered if his siblings did not have some trick or secret to making such dress more bearable, or if they just suffered in silence as he did. Nit had oft-mentioned the soothing effects of cider, he recalled, but Star Swirl would not even let them serve punch.

Ignoring the chattering and congregating of the ponies, Stasis inspected the snack table. There were no candies, or pastries, or sweet treats of any kind. Instead, his nose was assaulted with the nauseatingly green scents of fresh-cut asparagus and broccoli and lettuce, served alone or in small salad bowls, dressed with croutons. Tentatively, he poked at one of the party-size daisy sandwiches, its bread unsweetened and its daisies, thin and flaccid. Eating such a thing seemed vaguely akin to placing a few leaves between two pieces of soft bark and stuffing them in his mouth. Stasis wondered why Star Swirl didn’t just invite all the herbivores outside so as to nibble on the lawn instead; it would be cheaper and less labor-intensive, and Stasis would gladly pocket the difference.

Hey, old geezer! he imagined himself saying.

Aye, lad?

What’s up with all this green? Didn’t I tell you I wanted potaters and chocolate and vats of malted milk so big it has to have warning labels?

I’m sorry, lad, sometimes I’m just so thoughtless and forgetful –

I don’t want to hear any of your excuses, you old geezer. Your food is terrible, your species is terrible, and you’re terrible. Now go out and catch me a bear.

If Star Swirl ever reacted the way he wanted him to, that’s exactly what Stasis would have said.

Stasis’ musings were interrupted as one of the party ponies walked up and, appearing blissful as he whiffed the hay fries, popped a few into his mouth and chewed with a smile. The little changeling eyed his fellow ungulate distastefully.

Thankfully, the drinks were slightly more serviceable. Stasis used his magic to pour himself a glass of strawberry cordial. Scoffing at the available diluting water, he drank it straight, letting the sweet syrup ooze its way down his thirsting gullet. No nudity, no vats? He was going to need the sugar.

“Excuse me,” said a pony, walking up beside Stasis and pouring himself a glass of water earthpony-fashion.

Stasis rolled his eyes at the pony’s magic-less-ness. Leaning casually against the table, Stasis sloshed the cordial around his cup, wondering idly if he could get away with splattering the crimson syrup on his pristine white jacket. Maybe he could spread some on one of the kitchen knives, too? His desire to see the ponies’ reactions was only slightly less intense than his desire not to see Star Swirl’s.

Glancing over, he noticed the earthpony’s cutie-mark staring back at him. Watching him. Blinking, Stasis’ gaze followed the pony’s large torso, up the hard muscles of the flank, past the simple golden vest to the square jaw and stolid face looking down at him. Stasis swore he could see the slightest tinge of amusement in the colt’s eyes.

“Majooooooooor!” Stasis called, not breaking his nemesis’ gaze.

“Huh?” came the answer.

“What is this?”

“Um…Pierce?” Major answered, sounding confused. “Or are you talking about his eyeballs? You’re staring at them pretty hard.”

“What is he doing at my party?” Stasis clarified, glancing over at his…friend.

“Oh! That.” Major smiled. “I invited him!”

Stasis made a sound halfway between a curse, a groan, and a hiss.

“Don’t worry, Stasis,” Pierce said coolly. “I’m not here to bother you. You’ve discovered your cutie-mark; you deserve the chance to celebrate.”

“You’re not welcome here,” Stasis stated bluntly. “Go away.”

Pierce didn’t even blink. “Oh? I’m sorry to hear that. If you have a problem with me, perhaps you’d like to take it up with Star Swirl?” If anything, Pierce’s look grew even more intense as he awaited Stasis’ answer.

After a few moments, Stasis’ gaze wavered, and he looked down at the immaculate floor instead. “…No.”

Pierce took a sip of his water before wandering off, apparently to mingle.

“This party’s stupid,” Stasis muttered into his cup. “I hate it. I hate parties.”

“Nonsense!” bellowed Star Swirl from only a few paces away. “You’re having the time of your life here, lad! You just don’t know it yet.”

Stasis scowled at his persecutor. “I had to slave over this floor, and all my worst enemies are here, and what am I supposed to do with this?” he scorned, making a sweeping gesture at the ‘food’ behind him. “What’s supposed to be fun about this stupid party, anyway?”

“Games, lad! Games!” Star Swirl boomed, his eyes all a-twinkle.

“Games?” Stasis queried, suddenly unsure.

“Games!” Star Swirl repeated, holding up the book that he’d been reading quite a bit these past few days. “Animal’s Extreme Guide to Parties Big and Small has more games described than a lad as young and inexperienced as yourself can possibly imagine, and I’ve spared no expense in getting them set up for you. Are you ready, lad?”

“Sure?” Stasis set his glass down, somewhat enthused, somewhat afraid. Things that excited Star Swirl often excited Stasis too, but not always in a good way.

“Excuse me, Mr. Swirl?” said Major’s dad from beside the bearded wizard.

“Eh?” Star Swirl queried, blinking as he looked over. “What do you want?”

“Major and I were wondering if you were going to perform any magic as part of the celebration today. I know that many of the children and more than a few of the adults here would be delighted at the chance to watch Equestria’s greatest magician at work,” Major’s dad said with an amiable smile.

“No,” gruffed Star Swirl. Looking out towards the great mass of ponies scattered across the living room, he boomed, “Alright, folks. I reckon most of you are here, so it’s time for the first game of the day to begin.”

The ponies ceased their twaddling and looked towards him expectantly. Some of the children cheered.

Star Swirl’s horn began to glow. At once, the windows shuttered, the doors slammed shut, and candles burst into flame before the great wizard, shadows dancing across his hooded face. Smiling widely now, Star Swirl levitated up two cauldrons on either side of him – one filled with false pony tails, the other with a myriad of blindfolds.

“It’s time for Pin-the-Tail-on-the-Pony-Extreme.”

* * *

“Bwahahahahahaha!” Stasis cackled. “Bwahahahahahahahaha! That was great!”

Though his own bum burned, as he gazed out over the room of rumpled and blinking ponies, the little changeling was quite certain that he had given better than he had gotten. Many of the guests – children and adults both – were looking back at him with a sort of bitter anxiety. He grinned.

“Hey, Stasis?” came a dapper voice.

“Huh? What?” Stasis responded, turning to his friend.

Somehow, Major still managed to look every part the prim and proper domestic, despite everything that had just occurred. It was almost as if putting on the suit gave him some kind of posh pony powers, an ability to shrug off pinning attacks that would surely have tousled any lesser mortal. Stasis was impressed.

Major looked down at the floor between them, and scratched it idly with one hoof. “Um…I was wondering if maybe you could do me a favor….”

Normally, Stasis may very well have dismissed such a proposal outright. Major was his friend now, however, and he was trying to remember that friends were to be accorded special privileges.

“Yeah?” he prompted.

Major licked his lips. Looking over Stasis’ shoulder at the far corner of the room, he pointed.

Following Major’s hoof, Stasis saw none other than Abra herself, looking boring as ever in her deep-green dress. The edges were trimmed with a green so dark it was nearly black, giving her an overall floral look, like grass springing up from a patch of dirt, or perhaps moss spreading across a rotting tree. She was biting her lip as she gazed at her hooves, glancing furtively at the bookshelf next to her every few moments.

Looking up, she quickly scanned the room. Seeing Stasis, her jaw clenched, and she looked away.

“What about Abra?” Stasis demanded. “Or do you just want me to pat you on the back for managing to invite every single one of my worst enemies to my once-in-a-lifetime party? Great job, Major. What a friend you are.”

“I think that she really wants to read Star Swirl’s books,” Major replied.

“Then maybe right next to the forbidden object of her dark scholarly desires is not the best place for her to be sitting, hmm? Maybe she should go find some other library to sit in where touching tomes doesn’t transmogrify.”

Major frowned. “You like to read books sometimes. Star Swirl likes to read books. And reading is Abra’s favorite thing in the world to do, and I know that reading Star Swirl’s books would make her very happy. Why won’t you help?”

“I think that you just answered your own question,” Stasis explained.

Major stood up, glowering. “You know, I think that I’m going to go ask somepony else for help instead,” he huffed.

“Hey, don’t get mad at me,” Stasis protested. “I mean, what is it that you expect me to do, anyway? Star Swirl said that if anypony touches his books, he was going to shave off his beard and beat them with it.”

“That’s why I need help!” Major said, looking anxiously towards the ornery old wizard. “I know he really doesn’t like ponies touching his stuff, but…he’s kind of like your dad, I guess, so I thought that maybe…um….”

“What? Scared to ask him yourself?”

Major shuffled his hooves ashamedly. “Well….”

Stasis’ eyebrows rose. “You are!” he accused. “Major, you can’t go through life being all cowardly. You’ve got to stick up for yourself! Don’t let some hairy old wizard put you down!”

Major winced. “But Stasis…I mean, I know he wouldn’t really beat me with his beard, but….“

“I can’t believe this,” Stasis huffed. “I just can’t believe this. You say that you’re my friend, but you’re terrified of some geezer so old his joints strike up a chorus every time he shuffles to the bathroom? You’re shivering in your horseshoes over some wrinkly stallion who smells like mothballs and looks like he works at a circus?”

“Shh! He’ll hear you!” Major whispered.

Stasis stood up, resolute. “No friend of mine gets to be craven! Watch, and be encouraged!”

Stalking towards his prey – who was in a conversation with Major’s dad, incidentally – Stasis took a great breath and, in his most awe-inspiring and fearsome voice, yelled, “Hey, you! Old geezer!”

Star Swirl froze, his mouth still open mid-syllable. Slowly, ever so slowly, his one visible eye swiveled, watching Stasis. Damning him.

For a few moments, silence overtook the room.

Tap. Tap. Tap. went the paddling-hoof against the floor. Tap. Tap. Tap.

Stasis looked desperately around him, but the closest ponies were slowly drawing away, while the rest studiously inspected their hooves. Surrounded by ponies, he was alone.

“I…I mean…uh….”

Tap. Tap. Tap.

“Major wants to ask you a question!” Stasis shouted, backing up as fast as he could, giving his friend plenty of room to approach.

All attention turned to the dapper colt, who visibly gulped. Taking the first quivering step, he approached the statuesque wizard.

“Mister….Mr. Swirl?” he asked.

“Aye?” Star Swirl replied slowly, relaxing his posture. A little.

“Can…can Abra please read some of your books?” Major requested.

“Who?” asked Star Swirl, looking about the room.

“My friend Abra,” Major said, pointing out the filly in the corner. “I promise that she’ll take good care of them!”

“Eh?” asked the legendary wizard, looking at her. Studying her.

Abra’s eyes grew bigger than an owl’s, and her breath stopped mid-inhale. Stasis wondered how long she could hold out.

After a few moments, Star Swirl shrugged. “Eh, I reckon. I already hid away the priceless ones, so: if she breaks it, she buys it.”

“Thank you, Mr. Swirl!” Major said happily, diving in for a hug…then pulling back, reconsidering, and dashing off towards Abra instead. Abra herself just sat there, staring blankly at the far wall.

“You’re welcome!” Stasis yelled after his friend, before grumbling under his breath. Major could be very inconsiderate at times.

Somewhat put-out, Stasis sulked near to the adults. What mature ponies talked to each other about was always interesting to him in a sort of abstract way. Stasis felt like a zoologist or explorer whenever he listened in, anyway.

“– don’t know what to tell her. On the one hoof, I want to support her that no matter what she does – and she is quite talented, and loves it so much. On the other hoof, she always talks about her art as if she’s going to make a career out of it any day now. I try to tell that there’s no money in paintings or sculptures, not unless you can get a patron. And even if she were that dedicated, we’d have to move to the capital for her to have any real chance of catching the attention of the aristocracy. That would be an enormous burden; my job is here, and Major would have to leave all his friends.”

Star Swirl grunted thoughtfully.

“I think part of the problem is that she grew up in such a rich family,” said Major’s dad. “She’s generally sensible and good with money and the like, and she does her best when it comes to cooking and housework, but with some things she can be a bit…unrealistic.”

“Has she considered magic?” Star Swirl asked, cocking an eyebrow.

“…Excuse me?”

“I hear that using magic to make art is quite the fad these days,” Star Swirl continued. “There’s that pedestal they’ve got set up in front of the palace. You know, the one that looks like it’s got a glowing statue of Princess Celestia on it by day, and one of Princess Luna by night? Nothing but a fancy hologram, but the big horns in Everfree City love throwing money at that kind of thing.”

“That statue was unveiled over forty years ago, Mr. Swirl,” Major’s dad said, looking mildly distressed. “I wasn’t even born yet. Also, my wife is an earthpony.”

“Theoretical magic, then?” Star Swirl said, eyes twinkling under his hat.

“Mr. Swirl….”

Star Swirl’s laugh boomed across the room. “Ha! You’re too easy. It’s like a second Stasis just dropped right in my lap.”

Major’s dad chuckled lightly, looking uncomfortable.

“I tell you what,” Star Swirl continued. “Why don’t you have your wife send over one of her smaller paintings? I’ve got a bottle of dragon-fire lying around here someplace; I’ll send the painting over to an old acquaintance in the capital, and he can show it around to all his fancy-pants friends. If anypony’s interested, they’ll get in touch with her.”

Now Major’s dad looked even more uncomfortable. “Now, Mr. Swirl, I can’t ask you to do that….”

“Nope. But I’m getting a bit long in the tooth, and I reckon that if there’s ever a time to abuse my fame, it might as well be now. For a good cause.”

“Oh. Well, I –“

“If you seek to make yourself a patron through proxy, Oh Bearded One, I’m certain that I can think of a few other struggling artists who could use your goodwill.”

Star Swirl turned around and squinted. “Jack? When did you get here?”

“I apologize for my tardiness. I hope I’m not intruding?” Jack asked. Stasis was surprised to note that, in place of his usual odiferous weed, the older earthpony appeared to be masticating one of the sandwiches instead.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, sir. I’m Major’s father,” said Major’s dad with a smile.

“I am Jack. Neither the gods nor fate has seen fit to give me wife or child, so I must greet you only as myself.”

“And seeing as how you’ve got no kids of your own, Jack, I’m a little bit confused about what you’re doing here at Stasis’ cute-ceanara,” Star Swirl questioned.

“I was invited.”

Star Swirl stared at Jack. Jack chewed his sandwich.

The silence stretched on for a few more moments, before Star Swirl shrugged. “Eh, whatever. You’re just in time for the second game, anyway.”

“Nothing as…exciting as the last, I hope?” asked Major’s dad, looking anxious.

“Of course not!” Star Swirl decried. “That was just warming everypony up. This is where things get exciting.”

“Mr. Swirl, don’t you think Pin-the-Tail-on-the-Pony-Extreme was a bit dangerous for children this young?” Major’s dad continued.

“Nonsense,” Star Swirl scoffed. “Look at them! They’re all running around like normal already. Kids this age are rubber; they just bounce right back. Also, being rubber is going to be especially important, seeing as how the next game is Bobbing-For-Apples-Extreme!”

“Are you not going to make a display of your magic?” asked Jack. “I would have imagined that you would be keen for such an opportunity, given how rare it is for you to be able to show off your knowledge and power in a way that truly resonates with the populace at large.”

“The populace can amuse itself well enough on its own without needing my help,” Star Swirl gruffed. “I’ve got better things to do. Like managing children’s parties. Speaking of which….”

Every head in the room turned as, with a loud grating sound, several large basins of water were dragged from the kitchen via magic; a fluorescent barrel covered in strange and arcane warning symbols was floated over each tub and tilted until prismatic apples spilled out.

The pony children’s faces were lit up as rainbow lightning crackled and arced before them.

* * *

Major stumbled over, his suit as immaculate as his eyes were glazed. “Ow…Stowsis, I cown’t feel my tongue anymore….”

Stasis cackled madly with joy. “Bwahahahahaha! I know! I luff it!”

“I think I’m gowing to go lie down for a while…” muttered Major, beginning a controlled fall towards the nearest wall.

“Mowe! Mowe!” Stasis cried. Several nearby ponies glanced back and forth between him and Star Swirl fearfully.

“I’m afraid that I’m fresh out of zap apples, lad,” Star Swirl sorrowed. “They’re darned expensive this time of year, and don’t keep well. But not to worry; the next event’s already begun.”

Stasis looked towards the other end of the room. There, several musicians had grouped themselves together and begun to synchronize their instruments, flutes and chimes and clarinets, oboes and lutes and lyres all working together in symphony. It was strange, this pleasant strumming and humming of the air, so different than his own family’s vocals, but producing a similar ethereal, almost otherworldly effect.

Even more fascinating, however, was the small, kinetic crowd of ponies surrounding the instrumentalists, many of the party-goers engaged in this rhythmic swaying of the body, this pounding of hoof and pulse of muscle, this toss and turn and twist that so intrigued him. The way they seemed to lose themselves to the beat, to the sheer physicality of the act, caring not for social norms or niceties as they rubbed and bumped and sweat, coming together as one in a mass of undulating flesh to worship these heavenly sounds that flowed and throbbed between them, through them, inside them. It was all so alien, so…perverse.

…

Stasis loved it! Cackling once more, he ran and leapt into the fray.

…Only to be lifted out a moment later, firmly bubbled within a sphere of blue magic and repression.

“Hey!” Stasis protested, loosening his numb tongue for the verbal onslaught he was about to unleash.

Star Swirl brought him close, expression disapproving. “’Hey’ yourself, lad.”

“But I didn’t even do anything yet!” Stasis argued. “You can’t punish me!”

“And I’m not punishing you yet. But if you want to dance, you have to follow the rules,” Star Swirl chided.

“Rules? What rules? This is free expression! You can’t suppress free ex–“

Star Swirl hit him with a book.

“The book says otherwise,” Star Swirl countered. “Specifically, it says that if you want to dance, there’s something you need. Something these other ponies have, and you do not. Do you know what that is, lad?”

“No,” Stasis pouted, crossing his forelegs over his chest.

“Look.” Star Swirl tapped the little changeling gently on the head, pitching him down.

Stasis turned slowly through the air, watching Star Swirl’s beard stream by as a cloud, then the reflection of his own ponified face in the floor, and finally the dancers, even more impressive now that they appeared to be cavorting their way across the ceiling. He observed them more critically this time.

Feeling quite vertiginous now, Stasis was finally stopped by Star Swirl’s hoof as the wrinkly old wizard’s face came back into view.

“And?”

“The ponies are all dancing in pairs?” Stasis guessed.

“That’s right,” Star Swirl continued, levitating the book up between them. “There shall be no dancing at this party, save in pairs.”

Stasis snorted in exasperation. “Whatever. I guess I’ll just go get –“

“Not Major,” Star Swirl interjected. “Opposite genders only.”

“What?” Stasis screeched. “Who says?”

Star Swirl opened the book to the back cover. “’Mr. Animal is a cosmopolitan partygoer who has dedicated his life to experiencing every kind of bash and blowout that the world has to offer. From wine tasting with the capital elite to drunken brawls in seedy gryphonic taverns, from juggling crystal corn on the cob at the Crystal Kingdom’s Crystal Fair to pagan rituals and exorcisms amongst the Quagga tribals, from deadly tests-of-strength before the Minotaurian Emperor to frenzied Bison Dancing with the mysterious buffalo of southern Equestria, Mr. Animal has seen it all, tasted it all, and enjoyed it all. Last seen responding to an invitation to a traditional draconic feast, any information regarding Mr. Animal’s whereabouts are to be forwarded posthaste to Mrs. Animal, who is currently hitchhiking across the donkey lands southwest of the Everfree in search of the perfect hoedown.’”

“That’s stupid,” Stasis muttered. “Mr. Animal’s stupid. I hate him!”

“I understand, lad,” Star Swirl said softly. “After the party, we can write him some nice hate-mail. Until then, we’ve no choice but to follow the rules as he’s set them down, and for this type of dance, it’s couples-only.”

“Fine!” Stasis spat. After a moment the bubble popped, and he plopped down onto his hooves once more.

Turning his back on the recalcitrant wizard and scanning the room, Stasis began to take stock of the female pony population. It was a disappointing selection. Even in this dim lighting, the bright and cheery colors were an assault to his sensitive eyes and sensibilities; there was not a fang of any size to be seen; and the less that was said about their personalities, the better. It was like someone had taken colored marshmallows and given them life and a purpose.

Looking about, he decided that he would just have to make do. Who would be the least-terrible filly to have as a dancing partner? Mrs. Busybody was too old; Mrs. Strudel, too fat. Mrs. Jiggle was too old and too fat. Little Apple Crumpet was too delicate and doe-eyed for his taste, and he enjoyed antagonizing Abra far too much to ever consider dancing with her.

What he really wanted was a filly strong of will and pure of purpose; a feminine embodiment of power of mind and body; a female whose psyche alone could crush lesser creatures and bend them to her will.

Basically, he wanted a feminized version of himself. Barring that, he supposed he could make do with Goldie. Better the Discord you know than the Discord you don’t.

Frowning, he looked around the expansive living room. He was almost certain that he had seen the alabaster filly arrive by herself before the party, but now that he thought about it, he didn’t recall seeing her since. He hoped that she hadn’t been hogging the bathroom the whole time; Star Swirl had muttered darkly about such ponies while reading his book.

Trotting about, he made a circuit of the room, eyes alert for the slightest hint of white-and-yellow. As he rounded one of the corners, he paused, his eyes jumping back to something they’d almost skipped: a flash of color in an otherwise barren place between two bookshelves in the corner of the room.

There sat Goldie, wearing a simple blue dress with pink flowers patterned across it that matched the color of her eyes perfectly. In her hooves was a well-worn white earthpony doll with yarn-for-mane and stitched mouth. He sported a stylish tux and top hat, a monocle over one button eye, and in one hoof was an ebony cane, an excellent accessory for fashion as well as self-defense. His expression appeared politely interested yet guarded, the face of a pony who held his cards close to the vest.

“Is that Mr. Top-hat?” asked Stasis. The little changeling had never had a doll before, and was intrigued.

Goldie’s head was bowed and her eyes closed as she rubbed Mr. Top-hat against her cheek.

“Goldie? Are you alright?” Stasis asked. He normally did not concern himself with the feelings and moods of others, but something was definitely off with his friend’s friend.

“Please go away, Stasis…” Goldie murmured softly into her doll. As she blinked, Stasis saw tear stains on Mr. Top-hat’s chest.

He looked about nervously, but nopony seemed to be paying the pair of them any attention whatsoever. He considered going to get Star Swirl to do something…but….

“What’s going on?” he asked instead. “Are you hurt?”

“I…I….” Goldie sniffed. “I miss my momma….”

Stasis frowned. “That’s what this is about? Goldie, if you miss your mother, then why don’t you just go home? Nopony said that you have to be here at my party, you know. And if Major said that, don’t listen to him.”

Goldie started crying. Stasis felt like he was missing something here.

“Do you need…um…somepony to walk you home?” he asked. Now that he thought about it, Stasis had never actually seen Goldie’s mother, but he presumed that home was probably where she was kept.

“She’s…not here anymore…” she whispered hoarsely.

“That’s why you would need somepony to take you home. To see her,” he explained slowly. “Or I guess somepony could go get her for you. What does she look like?”

“She died,” Goldie continued, so quietly that even Stasis’ ears strained to hear. “She said that she was going to throw me a party when I got my cutie-mark, and there was going to be balloons and cake and a tea party with Mr. Top-hat, and since she was a unicorn, when we had tea parties she would use her magic to make him move around and sip his tea, and she would always do these funny voices for him. ‘Yes, Miss Goldie, this tea is delightful,’ she’d pretend he’d say, ‘much better than that mud your father fixes. How do you do it?’ And I’d say…I’d say….” Goldie buried her face in her doll.

Stasis licked his lips nervously. Why was this kind of thing always happening around him? Major had been crying last week, and Goldie was crying now, and what was Stasis supposed to do? He never cried. What did he know about crying?

“I…um…” he began. “…Did she get sick, or die in childbirth or something?” He didn’t know much about why pony mothers died, but those things probably topped the list near where he used to live.

Goldie sniffled. “The monsters got her. I hid in an alley until the guardsponies came, and one of the pegasusus grabbed me up and flew away. They told me that she was going to be alright, but I knew that they were lying.”

Stasis looked at her, huddled up in the corner. She seemed familiar, now. More so than he cared to remember.

Pondering further, he said, “I thought I just didn’t recognize you from school…but I guess that you just weren’t there for the rest of last semester, huh?”

Goldie didn’t look at him. She didn’t answer.

“…I think maybe I should go,” he said.

“I don’t play with any of my old friends anymore,” Goldie murmured. “I didn’t do anything for a long time, but then Daddy signed me up for the play…and I met Major, and he was really nice to me, and you were really mean….”

Now it was Stasis’ turn to be silent.

“…But then Major told me about how you were an orphan, so I thought that maybe you were just being mean because you were sad…” she whispered. “Do you miss your momma, Stasis?”

Stasis didn’t think of Mother as much anymore. But now he did. For some reason a particular memory surfaced, one that he hadn’t remembered in some time.

The others, gone. Departed. A soft wind whistled through the clearing, tousling her hair as she towered over him, looking down upon him. He felt nothing in her heart, saw nothing in her face, and was afraid.

Her hoof reached out suddenly, and he flinched back. The hard tip of it rested gently against his cheek. She watched him silently for a time, and he stared back into her verdant eyes, fearing to move.

“You shall forget me,” she breathed.

He watched her quietly, listening.

“And you shall be great,” she said, her lips barely moving. “I know this truth, deep within me. You shall surpass your father, and your father’s father, and even your father’s father’s father shall bow before you, at the end. Long have I yearned to have one child with my blood, one whom I shall not watch wither and die before me. I did not ask for you to be great.”

“I shan’t forget you,“ he whispered.

“I heard it, whispered in my dreams. ‘He shall forget you, and you shall curse him.’ Sons forget their mothers, in ten years, or ten thousand. But why should I curse you, my reward? Was I forsaken for so long, did I suffer barrenness and contempt through these ages, that I may curse you now that you are here?”

“I….”

She took back her hoof and turned from him. He waited there, silent, until the others returned. She never spoke of the matter to him again.

“…I miss her,” he whispered to Goldie, and shuddered.

Goldie sniffled. “…I’m sorry for being so mean to you sometimes, Stasis. You’re a huge jerk, and you deserve it a lot, but I’m still sorry.”

Stasis looked away. After a few moments, his eyes alighted on the near corner; there, Pierce sat speaking with Abra. Her eyes grew wide and looked back at Stasis for a moment, before Pierce interposed his large frame between the two.

Stasis froze. He thought quickly, trying to imagine a way to separate the two ponies. It would be best if he could find some way to expel Pierce and convince Abra to focus on her books; it wouldn’t do to have them both leave together –

Goldie sniffled again in the corner. Slowly, Stasis turned away from the other two and watched her for a few moments. Pondering.

“Hey,” he said.

She sniffed, and looked up at him. “Yeah?”

“I want to dance, and I need a partner,” he explained.

“I don’t know how to dance…” she said softly, looking down at Mr. Top-hat, whose expression seemed more sympathetic now.

He rolled his eyes. “It’s not all about you, Goldie. May I have this dance, Mr. Top-hat?”

Goldie gave a half-hearted giggle. “You can’t dance with my doll, Stasis. Dolls are filly’s toys.”

“I doubt Mr. Top-hat appreciates this discrimination,” Stasis warned darkly.

Goldie looked at her doll, and smiled slightly. “Well…maybe Mr. Top-hat and me can dance, and you can dance with us?”

“Maybe Mr. Top-hat and I can dance, and you can dance with us instead,” Stasis countered.

“You jerk,” Goldie giggled. “I think Mr. Top-hat just wants us all to dance together.”

Stasis eyed the doll critically for a few moments. “…Well, I guess it does seem unwise to argue with somedoll as urbane as Mr. Top-hat,” he conceded.

“You’re the weirdest pony that there ever was, Stasis,” Goldie laughed, stretching out one forehoof.

Stasis eyed the hoof critically for a few moments…then grinned. He was weird, wasn’t he? Coming from a pony, that was a great compliment.

He helped her up.

* * *

“The hippodrome,” Jack hissed. “The hippodrome! That albatross about the neck of civilization, that abominable cancer at the heart of ponykind! Tell me, did our forefathers chew upon pop-ped corn as they penned their timeless works? Did the great epics burst forth from their throats, only to be washed back down with flavored water and lemon-ade? Did they worship their sculpted athletes as gods, while the artist and the poet and the bard were thrown by the way? Nay, I say! Nay!”

“You…feel strongly about this,” Major’s dad said warily.

“I should chain myself before its gates, I should sap beneath its foundations, I should exorcise it from our beloved city as one would the foulest demon or the cankerest wound! Would that I had the strength, I would tear it apart pillar-by-pillar, stone-by-stone, even if it must collapse down upon me!”

“Wish the book’d let me put out something stronger than cordial…” murmured Star Swirl, squinting into his cup.

“Dad and I love the hippodrome!” Major exclaimed.

“What’s a hippodrome?” whispered Goldie.

“Event! Event!” demanded Stasis. “Onward to the next event!”

“I think that may be a good idea, lad,” said Star Swirl, setting down his glass and straightening his beard. “It’s about time we got on with it.”

The dull murmur of conversation and laughter dropped away, and all eyes and ears turned towards the mighty wizard. Stasis could taste their fear.

“I was pretty surprised to see this one in the book, actually,” Star Swirl explained. “It started up north as a game we kids used to play, since we couldn’t afford any of these fancy fake pony tails or apples or whatnot. Of course, seeing as how I’ve got more money and cosmic power now than I know what to do with, I went ahead and made a few modifications so as to make things more exciting –“

“Boo! Boo! Less explanations, more events! Boo!” Stasis booed.

Star Swirl glared at him for a moment before clearing his throat. “Fine. The next game is….”

Some ponies leaned in expectantly, while others edged towards the exit.

“Spider-Toss-Extreme!”

The room exploded with sound.

“What kind of party is this?”

“Please, Celestia, no….”

“How can you do this? Think of the children!”

Star Swirl glared at the mob around him. “Oh, what a bunch of proud parents you lot must be, skirting about like a bunch of spineless crawdads, moaning and groaning over every little thing. Are these children you’re raising, or bubbles, ready to pop at every little scratch and scrape?”

“Bubbles! Bubbles!” Stasis cried. “We want magic bubbles!”

“Are these spiders poisonous?”

“Of course they’re venomous, you ninny! Almost all spiders are venomous! They just can’t pierce the skin of ponies, seeing as how their mouthparts are normally so…small…hmm…might actually need to make a modification to my spell, now that I think about it….”

“I think that the young thespian may have a point. Considering that he is the cause for our celebration in the first place, why not do as he suggests and show us your magic, Oh Bearded One?”

“Stop calling me that, you green-toothed jackanapes.”

“It’s like that other fellow said! Give us magic!”

“Yeah! We came to see magic, not to get sent to the hospital!”

“Magic! Magic! Magic!” Stasis chanted, and the ponies quickly took up the rallying cry.

“What do you all think I am, anyway? Some side-show conjurer, here to do card tricks and light shows and pull a bit out of your ear? Do you think I travel around in a caravan, some petty charmer wooing earthponies with my hocus-pocus and abra-kadabra so that they’ll drop coins in my cap? Do I look like a common stage magician to you?”

Major’s dad looked the belled wizard up and down for a few moments, opened his mouth…and wisely closed it again.

“It’s my cute-ceanara! Magic, I say! Magic!” Stasis cried, sensing the slave-driver’s weakness.

Star Swirl’s eyes almost seemed to burn as they glared at the little changeling from under his mighty wizard’s hat. “Oh? Is that what you want, lad?” He scanned the crowd. “Is that what all of you want? You want to see my magic?”

“Yes!” they cried. “Show us magic!”

“Oh, I’ll show you magic,” Star Swirl growled, tossing his book so hard it shattered a glass of strawberry cordial and splattered the precious crimson fluid all over another colt’s white jacket, causing Stasis to groan in annoyance. “I’ll show you magic, all right. But there’ll be no blinds or bluffs here, oh no! I’ll show you real magic, magic born of a lifetime of sweat and tears and study! I’ll show you what a real archmage can do!”

“Show us! Show us!” they cried.

Stasis cackled with glee as he found himself wrapped in arcane bubbly goodness and lifted high above the crowd.

“And when I’m done, it’s this lad that you lot’d better be thanking, you hear? It’s this lad that’s the cause! Say, ‘Thank you, Stasis!’”

“Thank you, Stasis!” they cried.

“Because I’m about to blow your little ninny minds,” Star Swirl rumbled, his horn beginning to burn brighter and brighter before them.

* * *

“Look at me! Look at me! I’m flying!” cried Goldie as she flailed about, butterfly wings beating valiantly against the air as the taller ponies ducked and weaved around the nimble neo-pegasus.

“Hey, Dad! Look! I’m as tall as you now!” cheered Adult Major, his wide chest thrust proudly forward out of the burst remains of his suit.

“Look! Look! I’m as small as a tadpole now! Aren’t you glad you named me Tadpole, Momma?”

“I taste weird.”

“In these rhymes, I do seem bound. Shall of oranges, I now expound?”

“I can see through ponies’ clothes now. What am I supposed to do with that?”

“I think I’m a girl now.”

Major’s dad gave a strained smile. “These changes aren’t permanent, are they, Mr. Swirl?”

“This is not happening. This is not happening. This is not happening.”

“My wife is going to kill me….”

“Please, Mr. Swirl! Please change him back! I’ll give you money!”

“This is something of an improvement, actually.”

Star Swirl wiped his pale face with a kerchief, his eyes slightly unfocused and horn sparking. “Will you lot just calm down?” he muttered, ponies straining to hear him over the uproar in the suddenly-cramped room. “For Celestia’s sake, half of these spells are illusion-based anyhow. Leave ‘em alone and they’ll wear off in a few hours.”

One gaunt-faced mare shoved her way through the crowd, coming face-to-face with the hatted wizard.

“Look at what you’ve done to my baby. Look at what you’ve done to her!”

“Eh?” questioned Star Swirl, following her gaze upwards.

On the ceiling there was a filly, apparently oblivious to the scene below as she played with her tail.

“Does that look like the proper place for a little girl to be playing, Mr. Swirl? On the ceiling?”

Star Swirl stroked his beard absently, looking puzzled. “I don’t even recall casting that one….”

A stallion coughed. The surrounding ponies looked at him.

“It’s possible I may have…*ahem*…been the one to cast that particular spell.”

The mare stared at him. “You? Sleight, that is our daughter!”

“Everypony else was doing it….”

Stasis cackled from atop his high perch, gazing out of his sorcerous globule upon the scene of magical mayhem below. It was glorious!

…And it was at times like these that Stasis really wished that he was actually a chaos god instead of a little changeling. Feeding on bedlam just seemed like a better fit for his personality and motivations.

“Hey! Hey, Stasis, it’s me!” cried some small random colt from school, slowly floating by in a bubble of his own.

“Hey,” Stasis replied noncommittally. He already had one friend; his quota for this lifetime was pretty full.

“I wanted to talk to you!” cried the colt as he floated out of convenient sociability range.

“That’s nice,” lied the little changeling. “But it’s my cute-ceanara, and I’m busy. Maybe you can make an appointment with Star Swirl?”

“But…I need your help! And everypony knows how super-smart you are, Stasis! You must be the smartest pony ever!”

This seemed like a sensible pony child. With a few practiced kicks, Stasis propelled himself through the air, swiftly matching velocities with the other ungulate.

“Yeah?” Stasis prodded lazily as he soared through the air in his bubble.

“Well, everypony’s always talking about how smart you are, and Major – oomph!”

Pony and changeling bounced off one of the bookcases and began sailing back the way they came.

“…And Major said that you and Star Swirl helped him pass the fifth grade, and I’m only in second grade, so…do you think that when school starts, you could help me with my homework, too?”

Stasis pondered. It was true; Major had passed the fifth grade to the delight of teacher and parents alike. Stasis figured that nopony had ever worked as hard for his C’s as Major did.

Stasis eyed the little pony critically. He looked earnest enough…and he did recognize Stasis’ superior intellect. That had to count for something. There was one important question he had to have answered before he could commit to anything, though.

“…Do you have any money?”

* * *

Stasis watched idly as the party-goers filed out of the living room into the awaiting street outside. He eyed the bits of trash, spilled drink, and scuff marks on the floor with distaste. There was something about spit-polishing a place just so that guests could come and muck it all up again that disgusted Stasis.

“Well…that was fun, eh?” asked a still-pale Star Swirl, whose hat even looked floppier than usual after his wild disgorgement of magic.

“Delightful,” answered Jack, who somehow had managed to eat half the sandwich slices by himself despite being easily the gauntest pony there. “The ensorcelled child who spoke in perfect iambic pentameter…truly, that was a wonder to behold!”

“I don’t know about the parents, but the children loved it,” said Major’s dad. “It was certainly the most exciting party that any of us have ever been to, I’m sure.”

“It was great! I want to be an adult forever!” said Major.

Goldie just squealed happily as she fluttered into bookshelves and tables, enjoying her new alien appendages.

“I’ve got good news, and I’ve got bad news,” announced Stasis, walking up wearily to the adult ponies.

A bushy eyebrow was cocked. “Oh? And what’s that?”

Stasis sighed. “Well, on one hoof, I’m pretty much doing everypony’s homework for the next year. On the other hoof, I’m about to come into a lot of money.”

“That is depressing,” Star Swirl agreed.

“What I can’t decide is…should I just blow it all at once, or save it for something special later?” Stasis had learned a lot about economics in the months that he had lived with the ponies. Particularly, you often needed money if you wanted to convince others to give you theirs. And if he ever wanted to build Stasisgrad, he was definitely going to need financing.

“Ah, the quandaries of youth…” mused Jack.

Star Swirl looked about the now-vacuous room carefully. “Everypony out? Nopony hiding in the kitchen or passed out in the water closet?”

“I think it’s just us, Mr. Swirl. Everypony looked quite worn out by the…festivities,” said Major’s dad.

“Oh? Well, now that you mention it, so am I. Why don’t you take your boy on home, Pusher. Stasis and I’ll clean up the mess later.”

Major’s dad smiled and nodded. “Alright. Thank you for such a wonderful party, Mr. Swirl.” Turning to the bewitched adult beside him, he said, “Come on, Major. I think your mother’s had more than enough peace and quiet for one day.”

“Thanks for the party, Mr. Swirl! It was great!” announced Major. “Hey, Goldie. Do you want us to drop you off at your house?”

“Okay,” agreed the little pegapony. “I want to try flying outside, anyway. I want to show Mr. Top-hat what Trottingham looks like from way up high.”

“Eh…you’d probably best stay close to the ground, lass,” Star Swirl warned. “Never know exactly when the spell’s going to start wearing off. Also, avoid wind, rain, and direct sunlight. And definitely don’t nibble on the wings; magic doesn’t taste as good as it looks, trust me.”

Stasis nodded in agreement. The first time he’d tasted a rainbow was, incidentally, the last.

“If I’m careful, can you give me wings another time later on, Mr. Swirl?” asked Goldie.

“Eh…ask me again after I’ve had a nap.”

“See you tomorrow at rehearsal, Stasis! Congratulations on getting your cutie-mark!” shouted Major as the three ponies went out by the front door.

Stasis waved until the door shut behind them, then sighed. Major may be his friend these days, but right now, the little changeling wanted nothing so much as a chance to rest. Even a geezerly nap like Star Swirl’s was sounding pretty good.

The aforementioned wizard was in the process of staring at Jack. Jack was staring back.

“Well?” asked Star Swirl.

“Yes?” responded Jack, chewing on a piece of celery.

“Everypony else’s already left. I don’t reckon that gives you any ideas now, does it, Jack?”

“It suggests to me that the masses clearly do not enjoy your fetes as much as do I, Oh Bearded One.”

After a few moments, Star Swirl glanced over at the snack table. With a sigh, he used his magic to pile the remaining scraps of food together on one platter and levitate it over to the unkempt earthpony.

“Jack, would you do me a favor? Would you toss these out for me?”

“I would be delighted, of course. It’s the least I can do in exchange for that wonderful legerdemain earlier,” Jack said as he took the platter in his mouth and headed for the door.

“It’s magic, you jackanapes. And bring that plate back when you’re done with it, you hear?” Star Swirl called out, as the front door shut once more.

Stasis looked back and forth between the door and Star Swirl for a few moments, puzzled. “Do you two know each other?”

“All old ponies know each other,” Star Swirl muttered under his breath. “Reckoned you knew that by now.”

Stasis hadn’t known that, actually. It raised more questions than it answered.

“So,” said Star Swirl, looking down at the little changeling, “tell me the truth. What did you think of the party? It’s my first, so go easy.”

“I loved it!” Stasis declared. “I’d never even heard of those games we played, and I don’t think my mother herself could do as much magic as you can, and I’ve never had a chance to dance with a filly and her doll before. But the food was terrible. Party food is supposed to be good, I thought, but yours was terrible.”

Star Swirl laughed. “Is that so? And do you think you would have enjoyed the games and the dancing and the magic as much if you’d been stuffed to the gills with candy and cake and chocolate?”

“Well, I don’t know,” Stasis reproached the old pony. “That’s why we should have experimented.”

“Got me there, lad,” Star swirl said, his eyes a-twinkle. “But just because everypony’s gone home, well, that doesn’t mean that the party has to stop, does it?”

“It doesn’t?” Stasis questioned. The minutiae of partying still escaped him.

“Nope.” The wizard trotted into the kitchen, and returned a moment later bearing a platter similar to the one Jack had taken. On it were prismatic cubes, with clear outsides but swirling liquid insides, the blues and reds and greens and other colors arranged like a rainbow across the plate.

“What is that?” Stasis asked, eyes wide. The faint smell of the cubes was sweet and sugary.

“Nature’s candy,” Star Swirl explained, smiling. “Crystal berries I had shipped in by Pegasus Express, straight from the far north. Not the hybrids they cultivate nowadays, either; these have to be grown in frozen caves over years before they’re ready. Make a fine wine, too, if you’re into that sort of thing.”

“Can I eat them?” asked Stasis, who was feeling voraciously, vacuously hungry right at that moment.

Star Swirl set the platter down on the snack table and smiled. “Happy cute-ceanara, lad.”