CHAPTER ONE
[9:00 AM, The Morning Before]
First Clue sniffed at the morning air and let out a pleasant sigh. "Crisp, chill, n' very still," he quipped. "Just the way I like it." The middle-aged earth pony stallion stepped outside onto the forest loam, shutting the birchwood door with a rear hoof and glancing back at Ponyville's North Border Station. His routine once-over revealed what it always did: a homely log cabin that bore not a single distinguishing mark. Only a keen eye might have seen the taller-than-normal chimney as anything out of the ordinary. He snapped his somewhat portly body to attention and threw what he imagined to be a smart salute to the picture of his family in the window. "Border Deputy First Clue," he barked with a voice deep and rustic, "goin' out on patrol."
The tall trees of the Northern Woodland rose up all around, consumed by the reds and yellows of deepest autumn. Glittering sunlight filtered in through the maple-leaf canopy, lending a fiery radiance to nature's grand display. First Clue trotted over to a single rail line that ran perpendicular to the cabin and stretched off into the distance. This was his favorite time of year, though the brilliant colors contrasted badly with his dull patchwork coat, and he loved having a job that allowed him to enjoy it freely. He hummed a little ditty as he came alongside the rail, then paused. Another voice continued the tune, one that was not his own.
Back and forth across the rail ahead hopped an earth pony filly. Her coat of purest white and mane of blackest sable gave an impression of the ethereal, of a pony who did not belong in this world of warm and vibrant colors. She moved with a playful sort of grace that made her long twin ponytails dance about in the stillness and, though her backside was all that was visible for the moment, she seemed to be having quite the time of it.
Deputy Clue smiled ruefully, shook his head, and stepped forward to meet her. "Good mornin', young lady," he greeted in a mildly patronizing drawl. "What brings a pretty thing like you t' this neck o' the woods?"
The filly turned about in a monochrome flourish, revealing her cheerful face and stark crimson eyes. "Playin' a game," she chirped. "How about you, mister?"
"On the job," First Clue answered, giving a tap to the bronze badge on his chest. "Border Deputy First Clue, at your service, Miss . . . ?"
"Curve Ball," said the filly with a smile that could melt glaciers, "but my friends call me Curvy."
The name fits, thought First Clue. Though small in stature, the filly's proportions and body language seemed closer to that of a full-grown mare. "Well, Miss Curvy," he said after checking himself for the odd line of thought. "I'm sorry to be the one say it, but you're gonna have to play someplace else from now on."
Curve Ball's ears drooped as her expression turned crestfallen. "Huh? Why?"
Deputy Clue raised an eyebrow. "I'm surprised your Mom n' Pop ain't told'ya by now." He gestured toward the rail. "This here's the Shinin' Circle. Goes all the way 'round Ponyville so the changelings can't get in."
"Change . . . lings?" Curve Ball echoed, as if trying out the word for the first time. "What's so bad about them?"
Deputy Clue's mouth fell open. "How far outta the loop do ya gotta be t' not know about the changelings? They made a mess o' Canterlot just seven months back, turnin' into anything they darn well pleased and confusin' the heck outta everypony." He shivered. "Ugh, just the thought of one of those critters loose in Ponyville . . ."
"Right," said Curve Ball, sounding very disinterested. She poked at the rail. "So, how's this thing work anyway?"
First Clue coughed, a little embarrassed at his loss of composure. "Well, uh, this is what the hornfolk call a 'channelin' device'. Any changelin' that crosses it gets tagged with some kinda 'magic tracer', then the whole rail n' every single border station light up like one big Hearth's Warmin' Tree." He smacked his hooves together for emphasis. "Then, pow! The knights n' the police are onto that varmint like caramel on a candy apple."
Curve Ball winced at the thought. "Game over, huh?"
"That it would be, young'un," said Deputy Clue with an officious nod. "An' that's why it ain't fit for playtime. There's no accountin' for the contraptions those unicorn fellers conjure up. I know it looks simple, but there's all kinds o' secret functions and—"
Curve Ball's face lit up. "What secret functions?"
First Clue frowned and looked away. "Horsefeathers. I shouldn't have said that."
Curve Ball stepped closer, her eyes bright and attentive. "Aw, come on, mister. Tell me about the secret stuff!"
Deputy Clue gave a firm shake of his head and made a shooing motion in the direction of Ponyville. "No dice, missy. Now go on, git back t' your folks. I'm sure they're worried about you—I know I would be."
Curve Ball's lower lip quivered in response. "Please?"
First Clue managed a gentle frown. "No means no, missy. Now skedaddle, y'hear?"
At last, Curve Ball relented. With head hung low, she began a slow walk toward Ponyville, looking back occasionally to see if the deputy had changed his mind.
First Clue sighed and turned back to the rail line. Minor slips of the tongue aside, he felt he'd handled the situation with aplomb. He stepped forward on what promised to be an otherwise uneventful stroll and bumped right into Curve Ball. He fell back into a pile of leaves with a startled shout.
"Hey, mister," said the monochrome filly with a mischievous smile. "Let's play a game."
Deputy Clue put on a frustrated grimace and tried to dust off the leaves that had fallen on him. "Now you listen here, Miss Curvy. I ain't got the patience for this kind o' tomfoolery."
"Why?" asked Curve Ball, stepping too close for the deputy to rise. "Is it 'cause I'm a filly? I can fix that."
With those words, Curve Ball's body erupted in a flash of flame as black as her mane. What the unnatural fire left behind was an earth pony mare with an ice-blue coat, frazzled gray hair, and angry violet eyes.
The acrid smell of sulfur filled First Clue's nostrils. The bottomless void of fear filled his heart. He pushed himself back into the leaves and stuttered, "You're a— Y-you're a—" He glanced at the rail. "B-but you can't be!"
"Right," said the mare, her voice guttural and uneven. "I'm not a changeling." She leaned forward and pressed a hoof to the deputy's chest. "So what am I?"
First Clue nearly gagged on the smell of her breath and shivered violently. "I-I don't know!"
"Good answer," said the mare with a wicked smile that soon disappeared beneath another ebony blaze. When the strange fire had passed—which felt like nothing at all to the touch—it left behind Curve Ball, looking just as she had before. She pressed hard into First Clue's chest with the strength of a pony three times her size. "Now that we both know what you don't know, let's talk about what you do know." Puffs of black smoke exploded in midair on either side of the unnatural filly. They dissipated quickly, each leaving behind an oversized razor blade that bore the motif of a playing card, held aloft in a violet magic aura that could not have belonged to an earth pony of any sort. "Tell me something, Border Deputy First Clue. Are you a family man?"
First Clue did his best to look her in the eyes. "N-no! My parents are dead!" The hoof on his chest threatened to fracture his ribs. "I-I never married!"
"So," said Curve Ball, her eyes aglow with some strange sort of magic. "A wife and two kids, huh?" The smile on her face grew wider at the look of disbelief on her victim's. "Those are the stakes, here are the rules." She slid the jack of hearts under First Clue's chin. "You tell me what's so secret about the Shining Circle, and I get to kill you." The queen of spades hovered point-first over the deputy's left eye. "You stay quiet, and I get to kill you and your little family!"
"Please!" begged First Clue, too afraid to struggle. "Ya can't do this! I ain't never done you any harm!" Rivulets of tears streamed down his gentle face. "Why? Why are you doin' this?"
"What can I say?" jeered Curve Ball as she set the queen to work. She met the wet squish and the wail of pain that followed with utter delight. "I don't like to lose."
LLZ