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.