“I’m sorry Trixie, but I cannot allow that thing on my stage.”
“Mr. Arch,” Trixie said, “I give you my word that Turnip is no danger to anypony.”
Proscenium Arch, the mahogany-coated unicorn owner and manager of the Silver Halter Theater, leveled an angry glare at Trixie. “Trixie, that cheap Presti-brand performance cage your creature is sitting in didn’t fool me for a second, and you know the kind of savvy ponies the Silver Halter caters to; they’ll realize it’s not secure, and nopony wants to be in the same room as a Changeling, no matter how well trained you claim it to be.”
Turnip bared his fangs and tensed his wings, and Cabbage sent him a sharp mental command, Steady! Don’t prove him right. Turnip let out an irritated buzz, but stayed put and just glowered.
“Mr. Arch, that is hardly fair!” Trixie said. “He’s not a mindless animal, just-”
“I don’t allow manticores, timber wolves, or even bears on my stage,” Proscenium cut in. “Say what you want about your Changeling’s intelligence, but it’s potentially more dangerous than all those put together. It’s only out of respect for you that I’m not calling in the Guard to lock the thing up properly.”
Trixie stomped a hoof in irritation. “Fine then,” she said, “never mind that the Great and Magnanimous Trixie only thought to share the hottest new act with the pony who saved her life and career! Pack it up, Royal Thespians! We’ll just go elsewhere.” She stormed off, leaving the rest of the troupe to quickly shove Turnip’s cage to the back of the stage and close the wagon up.
“Best of luck,” Proscenium Arch responded, insincere.
Trixie hadn’t wandered too far off from the Silver Halter, so catching up to her was hardly any effort, but she was already fully prepared with a complaint litany by the time the troupe managed to pull the wagon into earshot. “You know what kind of savvy ponies this theater attracts!” she opened in a mockery of Proscenium Arch’s voice, then scoffed. “Of course I know! The Great and Powerful Trixie is the one who drew them in the first place. And the kinds of ponies I bring in, they’re certainly savvy enough to trust that no matter how dangerous things may appear on the stage, they’re always under careful control. How many panicked riots has our Changeling caused on the road? None!”
“So those protesters don’t count?” Harlequin cut in.
“They brought that on themselves,” Turnip said through the window behind the driving bench. “It’s not my fault they weren’t actually prepared to see their demands met. And five scared ponies don’t make for much of a riot.”
“Thank you, Turnip,” Trixie said.
“I have a question,” the Changeling said, “You have Princess Luna’s patronage, and I’m here because of an assignment from her, so why not call that pony’s bluff to get the Royal Guard involved? They’d take our side, wouldn’t they?”
“First of all,” Trixie said, “I am above throwing my weight around like that to just get my way. Second, there’s no guarantee that Guard ponies stationed this far from Canterlot would be aware that Luna is running a plot to revive and redeem the Changeling species. I think the odds are better that you, at the least, would end up in a jail and we’d have to ask Princess Luna to bail us out.”
“Yes,” Cabbage contributed, “I would rather not actually use that particular safety net. It would be embarrassing.”
“So,” Barnacle Salt said, looking at Trixie, “what do we do now?”
“If I may,” Maggie Pie cut in. Trixie nodded, and Maggie continued, “I’d like to remind everypony that we didn’t come here just to keep putting on shows. Cabbage needs to see performances by the biggest names on Bridleway to get material for her solo act. We’ve had a very successful run up to this point, financially speaking, so we can afford to take some time off.”
“It would be nice to stow the oars for a while,” Barnacle said.
“Hm,” Trixie said, “I guess it wouldn’t hurt to see if there are any new trends in stage magic…” She nodded firmly. “So be it. As soon as we find a place to park the wagon long-term, we’ll start taking it easy.”
The next morning, Maggie gathered the troupe in one of the hotel rooms they’d rented out and started giving out pouches of bits to everyone except Trixie. “Trixie and I are going to Bridleway and work out a schedule for show viewing. For the rest of you, I’ve portioned out some money so you can be tourists for the day.” She gave Harlequin a sharp look as he reached for his pouch. “And this is all you’re going to get for the day,” Maggie added, “so don’t spend it all in one place.”
“Yeah, yeah,” Harlequin grumbled, snatching the pouch. “Not like I’ve had any real opportunities to overspend since you talked yourself into the troupe.” He weighed the pouch on his hoof for a moment before setting it down with sigh and turning to Turnip. “So, buddy, shall I show you the sights of the big city?”
Turnip smirked and snorted. “I probably know this city better than you,” he said. “Manehatten was my main hunting ground before the invasion. The first one, that is.” Harlequin’s mouth formed a silent “oh.” “Thank you for the offer anyway,” Turnip continued, “but I was hoping I could pair up with Cabbage today.”
Barnacle Salt chuckled and draped a wing protectively around Cabbage. “Hate to break it to ye, matey,” he said, “but if ye haven’t noticed, little Cabbage Patch is bit leery of-”
“It’s fine by me,” Cabbage interrupted, stepping out from beneath the pegasus’s wing.
“B-but lass,” Barnacle exclaimed, “we’ve only known him for a few weeks. What if he’s planning to…” He left the thought unfinished when Cabbage gave him a disappointed look.
“Remember when we started on this trip?” the little Changeling asked. “I asked everypony to try and develop good feelings toward Turnip. I thought I could count on you to do the best job at that, Captain. After all, you’ve taken a Changeling under your wing once before without having second thoughts.” Barnacle averted his eyes in shame. “I, at least,” Cabbage pressed on, “trust that Turnip isn’t planning anything bad.” You aren’t planning anything bad, right? she asked Turnip over their mental link.
I wouldn’t dream of it, Turnip returned with amusement. Cabbage nodded ever-so-faintly, but as she turned her attention away from Turnip, she caught a lingering thought: The cost would be unbearable. Cabbage tried to pursue the thought, but Turnip shut himself off from her completely when she prodded.
Rather than worry about the other Changeling’s reticence, Cabbage allowed her heightened curiosity drive her to action. Grabbing her saddlebags to carry her coin pouch in, she said, “Guise up, Turnip, and let’s get going.” Turnip nodded, assumed his usual pony disguise, and followed Cabbage out the door.
The rest of the troupe sat in stunned silence until Barnacle Salt finally found his voice again. “Where the blazes did all that come from? That’s not like her at all!”
“No,” Trixie said, “but I like it. Cabbage Patch has finally become more than just a timid bundle of anxiety. She’s her own pony now.”
“Changeling,” Harlequin corrected.
“Whatever,” Trixie said, crossly.
“Well, I’m not entirely surprised,” Maggie Pie said. The others gave her strange looks. “What?” the grey earth pony said, “You all didn’t notice how quickly Cabbage has overcome her neuroses since Turnip joined us? Actually, now that I think about it, I think it actually started when she stood up to Queen Chrysalis.”
Trixie and Harlequin thought back over the years they’d known Cabbage, and then nodded in agreement.
Barnacle Salt thought things over as well, and then huffed and started for the door.
“Where are you going?” Trixie asked.
“I’m not comfortable leaving Cabbage alone with that Changeling,” the old sailor replied.
Maggie quickly planted herself between Barnacle and the door. “You’re not going to go spy on them, are you?” she asked. “Do you think you can actually sneak up on two Changelings – one who’s known you for years and the other fully trained and experienced? They’d sense you coming from a mile away, and I don’t think Cabbage would appreciate it.” She laid a gentle hoof on Barnacle’s shoulder. “I know you’re worried about her, Captain, but she chose to step out on her own. It’s time to let the fledgling leave the nest.”
Barnacle’s wings opened and twitched, but after meeting Maggie’s eyes for a moment, the pegasus sighed in defeat. “Before I met the little bug, I never thought I’d be a parent,” he said. “And look at me now: just like a father whose daughter has found her first coltfriend.” He let out a single, sardonic laugh. “Dear Celestia, I hope that’s not actually the case…”
Turnip and Cabbage had walked several blocks from the hotel in silence before Cabbage got fed up. “Are we looking for something?” she asked, basing the question on what little she could pick up from Turnip’s thoughts.
“I need to get my bearings first,” Turnip replied, “but yes. One of my old bolt holes, hopefully one that hasn’t picked up squatters in the last couple years.”
“Bolt hole?” Cabbage asked. “For what? Whenever you got caught?”
Turnip snorted. “I never once drew any suspicion,” he bragged, “let alone got exposed. No, we use… used them during observation periods before making a switch. They’re spots where one can swap disguises on the fly without being spotted. Ah, and there should be one down this alley.” He turned suddenly and trotted into the space between two apartment buildings. Cabbage hesitated at the alley entrance until Turnip looked back with an assuring smile. “No funny business, I promise,” he said. Cabbage cast one long look around, starting to question her choice to leave Barnacle Salt and the rest behind, only to quash the anxiety by force of will and follow Turnip into the shadows.
Turnip led Cabbage around the back of one of the apartments and over to a stack of cracked cinderblocks with a sheet of wood leaning against one side. Turnip knocked on the wood several times, listened for a moment, and then moved the wood aside to reveal that the stack was hollow with enough space inside for two. “Huh,” Turnip said, “I’m surprised nopony’s claimed this; it’s a good shelter.” He waved Cabbage inside and joined her, leaving the doorway open.
“What is this about, anyway?” Cabbage asked.
“Drop your pony guise,” Turnip said, dropping his own in a flash of green fire.
“Why?” Cabbage gave him a suspicious look.
“I want to have this conversation to your real face,” Turnip replied.
This is my real face, Cabbage thought to herself. However, she did as Turnip asked and let the green fire of Changeling magic consume her sea-green earth pony form. She promptly found herself almost at eye level with Turnip and feeling very unsteady on legs that were suddenly too long. “Wha-” she gasped.
“Like I thought,” Turnip said with a satisfied nod. “You’ve internalized your pony form’s size so much that, since I’ve taught you to control your size, you never realized you’ve been making up for lost time.”
“I don’t understand,” Cabbage said, sitting down and looking at one of her hole-studded legs in shock. “I’m a runt; how could I possibly get so big?”
“You’re not a typical Changeling,” Turnip said. “I’d guess that, somehow, your natural size has more to do with your emotional maturity than your age.”
“You’d guess?”
Turnip shrugged. “A half-breed like you has never been seen before among the Changelings,” he said. “Changelings and ponies just aren’t compatible that way, and yet here you are: a Changeling in outward appearance and abilities, but with a pony-like nature… and eyes.”
That’s right, Cabbage thought, looking in Turnip’s flat blue eyes. My eyes are yellow with visible pupils. I forgot how strange that is.
“You’re unprecedented,” Turnip continued, “and it’s been interesting to study you.”
Cabbage blinked. “Study me? Is that…” She gasped and called her pony guise back into place, although she remained at her current size, before pointing an accusing hoof at Turnip. “That’s why you’ve been acting the way you have all these weeks,” she declared. “I wondered why it was so easy to boss you around despite your bad attitude those first few days. You were just seeing how I’d react!”
“Of course,” Turnip said shamelessly. “You dared us to try seeking emotional nourishment your way, but I wasn’t going to follow a spineless pushover’s lead. You stood up to the Queen, yes, but could you keep standing up for yourself? The answer, as it turned out, was yes. So, congratulations.”
Cabbage’s eyes went wide. “Congr- You mean…”
“I’m convinced,” Turnip said. “I’m still going to hold you to your promise to develop your own act, but once we make our way back to Canterlot I will tell Chrysalis and the other Changelings that the way you live will work just as well for full-blood Changelings.”
Oh my gosh, Cabbage thought as joy filled her whole being. I actually did it. She felt like she was floating. I knew he was coming around, but hearing him admit it! I… I can definitely do this again.
I can help the Changelings save themselves.
A bright glow drew Cabbage’s attention to her rear end. When the light faded, it left behind a mark resembling a black, hole-studded heart framed by a Changeling-green flame on her flanks. Cabbage’s jaw dropped and she leaped up in surprise only to bonk her head on the cinderblock ceiling and topple over in a tangle of too-long limbs. Turnip managed to keep a straight face at the display, merely noting with a wry tone, “Well, that’s certainly proof that you’re half pony.”
“I have a cutie mark,” Cabbage said in dazed wonder. “I have a cutie mark. I have a cutie mark for helping Changelings!” She started giggling, quietly at first but quickly graduating to chuckles and then full laughter. Turnip watched her with concern even though he could feel her joy. “Oh,” Cabbage said once her laughter faded, “I must be dreaming. I’ve grown to just shy of adult-size, and I got a cutie mark. This is too fantastic to be real.”
“Oh, it is real,” Turnip said. “Now get up; I suppose we should let the others know about… all this.” He helped Cabbage stand up, and then put his pony guise back on and stepped outside. Cabbage followed him a few seconds later, after shrinking her form down to her previous size. Turnip looked confused that she’d done so.
“I’ve never been that big in my life,” Cabbage explained. “I’ll be tripping over my own legs the whole way back if I’m not this small. I’m going to ease my way up to… I guess my new proper size over the next few weeks so I can get used to it. Of course, that means I’m going to need new costumes,” she finished in a dark mutter.
In the dark hours of the pre-dawn morning, Turnip staggered out of the hotel on shaking legs. His stomach felt like a lump of lead from the overabundance of food he’d been obliged to eat at the celebration the troupe had thrown over Cabbage and her new cutie mark, and his head swam with the love and good will that had accompanied the food. How can they sleep after eating so much? he wondered, Especially the half-breed! She must have a pony’s stomach as well as a pony’s heart! Lucky nymph…
It wasn’t that Changelings couldn’t metabolize physical food and drink, but since they subsisted primarily on love and similar emotions the act of eating was mostly to maintain a cover and the digestive system wasn’t as efficient as a pony’s. Turnip made a mental note to warn his fellow Changelings against any social pressure to take part in large meals with ponies once the species integrated.
Turnip leaned against the hotel until he felt like his legs weren’t going to give out him, and then made his way around to the back of the building where the stage-wagon was parked. He was not surprised to find that the wagon was locked, so after checking that nopony was around, he dropped his pony guise and focused his love-bolstered magic into the lock of the rear door. The lock clicked open without much fuss and Turnip slipped inside quickly, re-locking the door behind him. Now, where’s a good place to start? he thought, weaving his way through the cozy confines of the wagon. As he searched, he coughed, gargled, and worked his jaw trying to awaken a gland in the back of his throat that had not been put to work for years.