Bluebird found the reindeer next to an empty bottle at the bottom of the wine cellar.
“Hey, everything all right? Bon?”
He lowered his lantern for a closer look, illuminating the young master’s face as he lay drooling on the cold cobblestone floor. His bespoke smoking jacket was undone, and a gentle snore croaked from his nostrils. Altogether, a dignified deer in a less than dignified pose.
“C’mon kid, wake up!”
He gave Bon a push, and finally he roused. Coming to slowly at first, Bon took account of his surroundings, then quickly righted himself.
“Uh, Detective!” Bon addressed, closing up his jacket. “I mean, Cadet. Bluebird, if I’m not mistaken? What would be the, well, what would be the matter?”
“Nothing’s the matter. I just wanted to speak with you,” Bluebird said affably. “Couldn’t find you at your room or anywhere else really, so Grid advised I check down here.”
“Oh Grid,” he blushed. “I would suppose he’s well aware, then, of my recent dabblings as a sommelier. A-an accurate prediction on his part.”
“Haha,” Bluebird chuckled. This one wasn’t his tic. “That’s such a load of crock!”
With a self-sensitive look, Bon tried to bring himself to his four hooves, in the process knocking over the bottle beside him. “… Maybe.”
Bluebird offered him a hoof, and helped him to stand. At the moment, he seemed more embarrassed than outright drunk, at the least. “Remind me again what’s the drinking age for your kind? It ain’t my jurisdiction, mind you.”
“Oh hush, Cadet, I’ve been of age for close to a year now,” he chided. They began to walk in unison toward the cellar’s exit. “I don’t suppose you would believe me if I were to tell you that, despite evidence to the contrary, I actually am more sommelier than lush.”
“No kidding?”
“No kidding at all.”
He stopped for a moment to light up the room in a uniformly natural glow. A fairly impressive display of magic, Bluebird noted. He then levitated a sampling glass off a nearby counter, floated it to his guest, and covered his own eyes with a hoof.
“Go on, choose me a wine, any wine—I’ll tell you its name and provenance. And do enjoy a little for yourself, my friend, si l’envie vous en prend,” he rhymed.
Bluebird was hesitant to induce this young buck to drink any more than he already had… buuut he figured just a half-shot more in the name of friendly rapport couldn’t hurt!
He reached at random for a bottle off a latticed shelf, popped the cork, and began to pour. A red wine of a very dark complexion dribbled out. The name on the label told Bluebird little, but the picture showed a bunch of deer dancing around a tree: White Tail Woods, perhaps? Acting on Bon’s invitation, Bluebird took a sip—and regretted it. Unexpectedly bubbly, it was also tart and acidic to the point of making him wince. Had it gone bad? He supposed he would let Bon be the judge of that.
He handed over the rest of the shot glass to the young master, whose eyes remained closed. Bon sniffed, then sipped its contents. He swished it around vigorously in his mouth, bobbing his head side-to-side as he appraised the flavor.
“What a clever selection, Cadet,” he complimented after swallowing, eyes still closed. “I’m in awe of your skills, both as an investigator and as an evident wine connoisseur.”
“… Thanks, I, uh, try my best.”
“You imagined I might not recognize a most-celebrated spirit of my kind, were I replaced by a changeling. While, as a reindeer, I’m not exactly from the White Tail’s neck of the woods, I am a great fan of that extra-fermented, sur lie red characteristic of a White Tail vintage—Lù Niào Jiǔ Sangiovese, if I’m not mistaken. I’m only impressed that you would know your wine well enough to place it from the name alone.” He opened his eyes to smile warmly at the cadet.
Bluebird gave him a round of applause. It wasn’t quite how Bluebird had arrived at his selection, but he would let Bon have his moment. At any rate, Bon was right that his own expertise in the matter would be something pretty difficult for an impostor to replicate.
“Well shucks, you aren’t just an alcoholic with extra frills! But, if you normally only drink to your tastes as a sommelier,” Bluebird wondered aloud as they exited the cellar, “then something must’ve really been weighing on your mind to put you in the state I found you, huh?”
Passing an inquisitive-eyed Girard in the hallway, Bon gave as his only answer an anxious straightening up of his jacket. Clearly, any explanation would have to wait until they’d found the privacy of his room.
Once they were both inside, Bon closed the door behind him and sat down on his bed. On habit, Bluebird took a moment to soak in the personality of the room. Although the things the stag chose to surround himself with weren’t nearly so overwhelming in quantity or consistency as those of his sister, they still spoke to a pattern: Origami cranes and elephants sat elegantly on his writing desk, next to a game of mahjong still in progress and an open text on chess strategy; score sheets on a music stand indicated that piano wasn’t the only instrument he had tried his hoof at, and hanging portrait sketches of his friends at the villa could compete even with Blanche’s art; he also noticed a plethora of language-learning books on the shelf, including (wouldn’t his mentor like to know) Zebrish.
The pattern being, of course: “You’re really a deer of many hobbies, aren’t you, Bon?”
Bon chuckled as he reached for a blank sheet of origami paper with his magic. “I’ve always preferred to call them my ‘passions.’ Admittedly, yours may simply be the more correct designation.” He looked down longingly at his paper construction in progress.
“So what’s up with that? Why so many?”
Bon smiled at the cadet’s bluntness. “And here I thought the investigators would be asking me much more practical questions, of alibis and of motives and everything else.”
“Ah, that stuff can wait a few minutes. You’re smarter than me—if there was anything important, I bet you would’ve already told me. For the moment, I just want to learn more about you as a pony—er, as a deer. Sorry, force of habit!”
“Or, dare I joke, as a changeling?”
“Haha, maybe!”
“I suppose you may have a point with this, that the impostor can only wear their borrowed skin so convincingly. So go on ahead, play the therapist rather than the interrogator, if you’re so inclined.”
“Therapist, huh?”
A therapist wasn’t exactly what the cadet had in mind, but he could roll with Bon’s interpretation.
“Well, like I said, you seem to have a lot of hobbies in your life. Most folks take to hobbies to pass the time and have fun, if I had to say.” Bluebird sat down at the other end of the bed, continuing, “But, I’m guessing you don’t have a whole lot of fun with these hobbies, do you Bon?”
“Not particularly,” he admitted, between origami creases. “But they are well placed for distracting oneself from certain boredoms and anxieties, yes…”
“But not all of them, I take it?”
“Indeed not all.”
“Such as, the thought of a changeling having taken out one of your closest friends.”
“You mean, one of my audience members.”
Bluebird chuffed at the awkward joke. “Ahah, what’s that supposed to mean?”
“Well it means I’m an insufferable narcissist now doesn’t it Cadet?”
Well, that was something. Whatever it was, it demanded to be the new topic of conversation.
“Oh, don’t be that way!” Bluebird said. “I can tell your friends occupy a very special place in your heart.” He walked over and gestured to Bon’s portraits of his friends. “Even if your appreciation for them comes off as being a bit… unconventional, at times.”
“Unconventional how? I want to hear you say it.”
“Well, sure, there’s an element of ‘showing off’ to it. Most folks don’t combine ‘friendly appreciation’ with ‘showing off’ in the way you do, but is that really so bad?”
“Only when it is a combination.” He finished his origami creation, a bipedal dragon of a charmingly asymmetric design, and set it on his desk next to the others.
“Well, go ahead and insult some of your friends as just your audience members. I won’t be in a position to contradict you. But, anyone with eyes could tell you’ve put a certain amount of extra-tender care into one of these drawings in particular…”
Bluebird lifted up Grid Iron’s portrait in demonstration of his point. Of course, the artistically inept cadet could not himself see anything that set it apart from the rest, and was only guessing. But it was a very confident guess—and Bon’s subsequent blushing upgraded it to a certainty.
“He’s what had you in the wine cellar,” Bluebird insisted, shaking the painting for effect. “You’re stark raving mad for the colt, and you’re upset that he’s upset—or rather, that you upset him, in the foyer earlier today.”
After a long and mortified silence, Bon declared his surrender. “All right, Cadet, you can go back to being an interrogator, now…”
“Don’t wimp out now!” Bluebird chided. He was having a little bit of fun with it. “While we’re here, though, I do have a question for you: Could your relationship with Grid have anything to do with the changeling?”
“How do you mean?”
“If I’m not wrong, changelings can exist on platonic love alone. But, they’re drawn to romantic love like moths to a flame, no pun intended,” Bluebird explained. “Have you noticed any change in your relationship? Is he acting any differently, say? Or is there anyone else who might’ve found out you two are—”
“Grid doesn’t know I exist, Cadet!” he mewled. “I mean, not as anything more than a friend. He just doesn’t get the vital message, Cadet. And understand, I’ve tried everything but the most embarrassingly direct means, especially these last two weeks.”
“Wait, you mean,” Bluebird said, taken aback, “he doesn’t know, and you haven’t told him…?”
Grid actually was telling the whole truth back in the foyer?
“Do you honestly think we could be compatible, Cadet?” Bon said harshly. “I mean, I’ve never seen him take an interest in any girls at school, so I don’t really doubt that he’s of the same, well, preferences, as yours truly. But it doesn’t change the fact that I know he only sees me for the boastful, callous individual I really am inside…”
Grid wasn’t the only one who wasn’t getting a vital message, Bon!
Bluebird now saw the obstacle clearly, and he didn’t know how to move forward or backward from this point in the conversation.
“Do you honestly think we could be compatible?” Bon asked again, more sincerely now, eyes pleading.
Bluebird didn’t have a gameplan anymore. “Well look, what’s the worst that could happen? And I mean cut the crap, Grid sees you as a good friend and always will, even if you totally strike out with him!”
“I-I could embarrass myself. Make a complete fool of myself. Again.”
Oh. Bon had reminded him of at least one thing he had to confirm. He could salvage something from this trainwreck yet. “Again? The first time being, that very first piano exhibition of yours, back when you were…?”
“Who told you about The Blue Doenube!?” Bon buried his face in his hooves with violence. “No! Godsakes, Cadet, that incident with the stool was nine years ago! I simply meant my dreadful showing in the foyer earlier today.”
Well, it was something to have that account confirmed, Bluebird thought, even if the rest of his rapport-building with Bon was clearly fizzling out. As he took the moment to record this latest detail in his notepad, Bon sprang up from his bed and headed for the door.
“Yours is a very exhausting form of interrogation, Cadet. I’m afraid I’ll have to take a brief constitutional before we continue.”
And with that, Bluebird was left alone in the youth’s bedroom.
Was it a wash? Was anything learned at all? At the very least, he felt that Bon’s response to Blanche’s shared memory was perfectly correct, and that everything concerning Bon’s talents and personality rendered it vanishingly unlikely that he was the changeling. The entire encounter had been awkward to the umpteenth degree, but very genuine.
And really, to Bluebird, all these kids were genuine. Maybe, just maybe Blanche and Zorn were somehow mistaken about there being a changeling involved after all?
No. That was just his excessive optimism speaking, Bluebird knew. There would be a perp here, there would be a tragic story here. Just like every other case he and his mentor had ever worked. He needed to get a clue.
Several minutes passed, and Bluebird decided to leave Bon’s bedroom; he had little left to discuss with the buck, anyway. He would meet back up with his mentor, and go from there.
He found his way to the foyer. It was empty but for the griffon girl reading a book by herself. He figured Pesco must’ve been taking his time at the library, having found something of note. He would have to look—ah, never mind. There he spied his mentor, just down the other hallway. He seemed to be standing just outside Zorn’s bedroom door.
“Hey, Pesco!” he called, as he trotted up behind him. “I just got done interviewing Bon. Dunno how useful you’ll find all of it, but at the least he’s confirmed Blanche’s—”
He cut himself short. His mentor was not simply standing in front of Zorn’s door, but hunched over it, clearly up to no good. Pesco turned back an eye at his partner, and then immediately spun around. A lockpick and tension wrench fell clattering at his hooves.
“Pesco, what are you—”
The detective gauchely stepped on his tools as if to hide them, but he was far too slow. He gave every appearance of a foal caught guiltily in the act. The flustered Pesco remained silent.
“I thought we agreed that going behind Zorn’s back would be a last resort, Pesco!” Bluebird scolded.
Pesco spoke not a word. He only bit his lip in response.
“Wait, is that really—”
“I’m sorry, Bluebird.”
Pesco’s face became like a mirror for the cadet’s own growing terror.
It was more than a mirror. In his eyes, there was more than terror: Desperation. Commitment. Regret. Obedience.
He raised a hoof engulfed in green flames, and drew a step closer.
!
!!
!!!
“Where’s the book, Princess?” I demanded midstride. “And don’t you dare say—”
“—this book?” she suggested in confusion, holding up her reading material. Poetry. And her wings unfolded, clearly emptied of whatever contents they’d once held.
I didn’t know if I imagined it, a smirk at the corner of her beak. What I did know, was that I had never seriously considered laying a hoof on a minor up until that moment.
“Pesco!” my partner hurled from a nearby hallway, beyond my line of sight. “It’s the changeling, he’s right—”
He was interrupted, replaced by the sound of a body crashing onto the floor. A flash of green light erupted from around the corner, and I heard hooves in full gallop heading toward the foyer.
I vaulted over Gloria, knocking the poetry book out of her claws. I’ll deal with you later. Once armed with the syringe, I turned the corner and stood to blockade the escape route. A moment too late to react—Zorn’s body in a headfirst sprint collided with mine. We were both sent reeling, and the syringe as well.
I saw nothing but stars. My consciousness wavered, and a red scar bloomed in my mind’s eye—it was a headache that threatened to split my brow in two. An uncertain number of seconds passed. My internal clock was shattered in the collision.
I shook my head, and my vision slowly cleared: I now saw my partner, mounted atop the perpetrator. He was scrambling to restrain Zorn with a shoulder lock, and Zorn squealed in pain. But inside a cocoon of bright green light, the changeling was now rapidly transforming into someone else. Still unsteady, I bounced back to my hooves and scooped the syringe up off the ground as I sprinted to Bluebird’s aid.
I took aim, and plunged the needle downward at the impostor’s chest. This is how your story ends, fiend!
I missed by millimeters. His transformation to Bon Vivant’s lithe figure in concert with my dizziness left the needle stuck uselessly into the carpet.
In one motion, Bon wriggled free from my partner’s compliance hold and chomped down on his wing. My partner yelped and lost his balance, tumbling to the floor. Bon recovered to a stand, about to escape.
I ripped the syringe from the carpet, its payload still intact, and lunged again at the changeling, but by now he had already transformed into the lean and muscular Grid Iron, who brushed my tackle aside. The redirected momentum caused me to trip over my hooves, and I fell prone. From the corner of my vision as a clumsy heap on the floor, I saw the changeling make one last transformation into Gloria, and take flight down the entry corridor that would lead to the front doors of the villa. Bluebird hobbled after her for a few paces, but he was far too slow to gain ground on her in this form.
There was a distant creak and THUNK as the front doors opened and then slammed shut. The changeling had left the villa—but who knew if its business here was finished?
Bluebird turned to me, unsure of what to do. A thin line of blood trickled down his left wing, which he nursed with his opposite forehoof. “Are you all right, Pesco?”
I held my throbbing head with one hoof as I sat up, looking side to side from him to (the real) Gloria, who was sitting shocked and immobile where I had left her.
“We need to take a headcount, now!” I barked.
And so we sprang back into action: Having failed to apprehend the changeling, the plan now was to assemble everyone from the villa as quickly as possible in order to deduce the missing head. This was only a time-sensitive matter, of course, if the changeling had in mind to return and discreetly reprise their assumed identity. But if that was their strategy, we had to act with haste.
Bluebird volunteered to fetch Bon, saying he wasn’t in his room but that he had an inkling where he might be. My partner also doubted that Zorn was in his room, and so I ordered Gloria to locate him as well as Grid Iron and bring them to the foyer. I tasked myself with gathering Blanche and Girard, whose bedrooms I was told were nearby on the second floor.
Within thirty seconds of the changeling having escaped us, we had coordinated and set off on our search parties.
I raced up the spiral stairs and down the second floor corridors to reach Blanche's bedroom. Her light was on, and from inside I could hear the scratching of quill on parchment.
POOMF POOMF POOMF, I pounded on her door.
She answered.
“It’s an emergency. The changeling has struck. We need to gather everyone who’s still around.”
She understood.
We took a moment to close her door, and then we bounded down the hall at a gallop. Destination: Girard’s room.
Blanche highlighted a door in the distance with her magic. “Right here, Detective. He shares a double with Gloria.”
Sharp and to the point. I admired her priorities.
I stopped before the door and knocked forcefully at length. No answer.
About to turn around and leave, we heard the flush of a toilet and then the running of a sink—Girard had been using the facilities in a bathroom just nearby. I gave him the same rushed explanation I gave Blanche.
“Oh the, the changeling?” Girard stammered. He was white in the face. “Um, do you know…?”
“We know nothing yet. We need to hurry.”
“Oh.” He stood rooted in place, curling his claws. “Where’s Gloria?”
“She’s safe,” I said, my impatience bleeding through. “Let’s go.”
Finally he got the picture, and we assimilated the nerve-addled griffon into our party.
My targets recovered without obstacle, I led us back to the foyer on the double. There I found Bluebird, who was busy assigning a seat to a very bleary-eyed Bon, looking worse for wear. He looked like he himself had gotten into a scrap with the changeling, but I had my own, much more mundane suspicions.
After motioning for the youths under my charge to take a seat, I asked my partner, “No word on Zorn or Grid Iron yet?”
“None. Should we go looking for Gloria now?”
I nodded in the affirmative, and then addressed the twins and Girard. “You three stay here. Holler if the changeling returns.”
My curt instruction didn’t put them at ease, but time was of the essence.
Bluebird followed my lead toward the kitchen. This would be a nearby and obvious place to search for him, and if he was not there, the gym was further away in the same direction.
As we neared the kitchen, however, Bluebird voiced his doubts. “Maybe we shouldn’t bother searching down this way. Gloria already took off in this direction, and she would’ve returned even from the gym by now if she had found him.”
He was probably right, I thought. And yet, just as I was about to recommend we split up again in more optimal directions, Bluebird and I were both proven wrong—Gloria emerged from the kitchen with Grid Iron in tow.
“Gloria! Grid!” Bluebird exclaimed. “Any sign of Zorn? This time, he really needs to be here.”
“No, I haven’t found him,” Gloria said, distressed.
“But you just now found Grid in the kitchen, didn’t you?” I probed.
“Yes, well I—um, yes, I did.”
More surely than the changeling, this bird’s duplicity was going to be the death of me.
“Yeah?” Grid spoke up, looking confused.
“No time to explain, let’s get you two back to the foyer,” Bluebird urged.
We hurried back on our previous steps, myself and Bluebird leading the charge. We have five accounted for now; is that proof of Zorn’s guilt? If not already, then how long until we can make that call?
We were coming up on the foyer. “I’ll go search for Zorn near the library. You drop Gloria and Grid off with the others, and then head—”
But my plans were proven unnecessary as soon as they were spoken. Zorn stood at the front of the foyer, eyes locked with his three friends on the furniture. His stare was curious, quizzical, scientifically perplexed; their stares were only frightened.
“Oh, hello, Zorn…” Girard greeted.
“What were you doing outside?” Blanche asked pointedly.
Zorn looked to us for an explanation. “Have I missed something, Pesco?”
“Yeah, a little!” my partner interjected. “Where were you?”
“I was outside, taking a brief walk.”
That’s going to be a problem.
“Did you see anything?” Bluebird asked. “The changeling, I mean, or anyone else?”
“No, not at all,” Zorn said. Curiosity gave way to concern.
And so the stage was set for the second act. It was the beginning of a trial by peers in the foyer—this time with everyone in attendance. We had failed to subdue the changeling, and we had even failed to prevent them from slipping back into their assumed identity under our very noses. But, such was my resolve, this would not be the changeling’s victory. They had accomplished nothing but an evasion of immediate capture with their maneuver. They had in return gifted us information, not the least of which was the unambiguous proof of their existence.
And for all the literal and metaphorical headache this changeling was causing me, I would see to it that this information would win us the day.
I'm gonna put out that Zorn isn't the changeling. The evidence definitely points that way, but that could likely be to mislead. I think it's Girard now. The only way to prove it would be to go back to the bathroom Girard was using and check if there was a window and melting snow. I propose this because the changeling likely knew Zorn would be suspected by all the others, and joining the group sooner would help to throw off any suspicion.
My first half-joking theory was that none of them were the changeling and it was just a random paper supplier. There's now clearly a hostile agent here, but I still don't think it's any of them. Not for more than brief encounters.
Gloria and Bon were physically in the wrong place during an attack. Zorn just got directly acted against. Blanche and Grid both offered up detailed memories that would instantly expose them if prodded. Girard hasn't been interviewed by the detectives, but Gloria has almost certainly quizzed him offscreen. Hell, all six have probably already put each other through some amount of distant memory song and dance.
Theory one is that Gloria and Girard are both changelings covering for each other. Gloria is actively trolling the detective a bit, and being royalty of some transient province in an area so torn by border wars that even a schooled detective would never have heard of it at all is pretty suspicious. I mean, the average IRL westerner may not know the current status of every current border in sub-Saharan Africa or the former Soviet Union, but they'd most likely at least recognize a name.
But even if they are changelings, I don't think either is the changeling that has everyone freaked out. This is a big mansion and a hostile changeling could pretty easily slip in and out of chance meetings and watch the chaos unfold. It may not have even come back to the building after fleeing.
I'm thinking it's an agent dispatched to threaten at least one benign changeling already among the teens and considered rogue. Zorn's tests and cryptic bullcrap, and Blanche's deeply personal knowledge of their biology and hierarchy, have me leaning toward all of them knowing or having a pretty good idea and trying to cover for them, and the agent was trying to break into his lab to find the right target himself.
Also possible all six are rogue changelings meeting up to discuss Equestrian amnesty or something. In this case Zorn's test would have likely discovered one of them - probably one of the griffons - is actual royalty, which would've forced a hive agent to act even more urgently.
Most curious. But this does definitely seem like a blunder on the changeling's part... assuming it's the only one.
But that may be a bit too paranoid. For now, time to see what everyone has to say for themselves.
. I agree, wine is awful.
11233580 Everyone is a changeling, even the investigators! They're so good at impersonating ponies, they even convinced themselves!
(Wait... what if I'm right?)
Yeah, pretty good for selecting a bottle at random, isn't it?
Bon's such a show off, he effectively oversells the supposed skills of others too, it seems. In reality, he's full of it--so eager to demonstrate he IS all that and more that he ends up overselling it, and then it comes out seeming ingenuine. He should probably try being just himself more.
If he should prove to be the changeling before this is all over, I will probably laugh a little, because that means that 'ling's trying entirely too hard...and its working anyway.
You know, maybe I'm reading too much into it, but I've noticed there's been a couple of these "just passing by" encounters with Girard at random locations throughout the mansion, so much so I'm wondering now if it's deliberate, and we the readers are supposed to be taking note of it...
At least he admits it. That's the first step towards recovery, you know!
Yeah, I too had a hunch about that earlier, but I didn't want to seem presumptuous in calling it out.
If that's true, then either it's two-way and Grid has an interest (at some level) as well and just hasn't given voice to it yet for whatever reason, or Grid does have some suspicion about Bon's interest, but hasn't wanted to be presumptuous in acknowledging it either (possibly for fear of guessing wrong and embarrassing them both). And the reason I say that is because it was Grid's reactions to the topic of Bon that first got me thinking there might be something there, so if I got that from the supposedly uninterested one of the two...then perhaps there's hope yet for poor Bon here.
Or Grid's the changeling, and the interest is in actuality to exploit Bon's interest for the chance for a full stomach, as Bluebird has already proposed. There may be some interesting implications yet to come to light if that's the case, but let's not get ahead of ourselves here (though to be honest, I'm sorting hoping that's not the case, as it'd feel like it'd be awfully cliche )
Maybe, but maybe not in the sense that sentence would seem to suggest...still can't rule it out just yet.
Because, again, if the changeling really did mean ill-intent, then why isn't there more obvious sign of it? Why hasn't it already made its move? What's holding it back?
Huh. Okay, move made, I guess. Look at me being wrong.
That does mean we can probably rule out both of the detectives then, at least (not that I think anyone was seriously considering it here).
Also, obviously, confirms that there IS actually a changeling, but c'mon, we all knew deep down there would be at least one, that's why we all clicked on the story. admit it.
Additionally, the changeling knows Bluebird not just by name, but also enough to feel obligated to apologize in advance. This feels like it should be relevant, but I don't know how yet.
Relevant question--does the bathroom have a window? Or some other means of quickly slipping into the building from the outside, where one can swiftly assume a new form?
Not to say Girard IS definitely the changeling, but...he is currently the one with the weakest case to deny it at the moment.
Yeah, Gloria's definitely hiding something, though as to what exactly, I can only guess, because I'm not convinced yet it actually concerns the changeling. Or if it does, not in the way one would presume.
While down with a headcold? I call foul on that, Zorn.
Y'know, something's definitely amiss about this whole place...and I'm not so sure it's actually the changeling.
But on that matter, this whole incident has made clear one thing about that changeling--they do not necessarily have any one preferred form. We've been looking at this as if the changeling has replaced and assumed only one identity, but what if they've actually been assuming multiple as the situation calls for it all throughout? It could explain why no one had previously noticed anyone acting truly out of the ordinary, because the changeling hadn't ever assumed the place of one of them for long enough for others to notice.
If so, then this could get a lot more complicated.
11233549
Agreed, I think Girard's the prime suspect at the moment, but there's suspicious peculiarities going on here with some of the others too, like Zorn, but most definitely Gloria too, so it could still be anyone's guess at the moment. It doesn't help that I'm confident there's something else amiss going on here besides the changeling, and that's not helping.
But yeah, I'm thinking it's at least probably not Zorn--that smells too much like a set-up. But that still means Zorn's up to something regardless, because him being outside the same time this goes down, plus his withholding of information earlier, is still rather suspect, so what else is going on here?
11233579
Now there's a thought, the idea that the changeling might be here to act against yet another changeling. Hadn't really toyed with the idea before because there didn't seem to be enough evidence for it...but now you might be onto something there...particularly as I've gotten the sense the group's are all trying to cover for each other too, and this could easily explain why. The sudden quickness everyone interrogated has voiced shooting down the idea of a changeling reformation would even seem to support that idea, as that could be an attempt to simply dissuade unwanted attention.
So assuming this IS the case, then I think it'd have to be Girard, because everyone has been super protective of him and quick to try and turn attention away from him, and he IS the only one who hasn't been interrogated yet, as well as also the one the most uneasy about all of this. And there's my earlier point about how he's always the one "just passing by" that'd fit perfectly into this too. Heck, if he is a changeling, then that could explain why he has the nerves issue at all, because he was perpetually nervous about being caught--GOOD GOSH, this is starting to make more and more sense the more I think about it! I was going to hide all of this with a spoiler tag just in case, but now I'm thinking this is worth being upfront about.
One final thought: there was a brief moment between the changeling revealing itself to Bluebird and Pesco seeing them both race out of the hallway that we aren't shown what was happening. Are we sure Bluebird himself wasn't replaced in that moment? Particularly as the rest of the chapter following remains in Pesco's perspective? Sure, that'd mean there's multiple changelings, but we're already speculating in that regard so that's nothing new. Besides...why would the changeling suddenly give itself away like that just because Bluebird walked in on it doing something Bluebird would already find in line with the form it had assumed, especially when it's probably managed to avoid revealing itself so for who knows how long prior to then?
11233682
Then couldn't that mean YOU'RE a changeling too?
11233708
Oh $#!+ I've been found out!
I continue to believe that Zorn is too obvious a suspect, especially since the changeling was trying to break into his room. I'd also like to take this opportunity to bring up the idea that one of the 6 has been a changeling for much longer than anyone realized, and that's why no difference in personality is being noticed.
11233801
I don't think Zorn is the changeling either. The blood vials and his... aloof attitude regarding the others make me believe he might, however, know who the changeling is and not know what do do about it. He would have given the syringe to Pesco to let someone else make that choice for him, and his "cold" would be an excuse to not have to see his friends in the meantime.
I very much agree on the 'ling having been there since at least when they all met, at least since the boarding school.
11233708
WE'RE ALL CHERNGELERNGS!!! ERMAHGERD!!
11233703
Interesting thoughts. I'm still holding out hope that the one of the six that is a changeling was always a changeling. After all it seemed to sincerely apologize in advance for fighting to escape its misstep and used the minimum force needed to do so.
Heck maybe the changeling called the guard on itself because it sensed a second one nearby. It's clearly paid attention to the news.
Also yeah Girard is suspect. So is Zorn but maybe he was outside dumping the petri dishes.
11234177
Well, I mean, shape-shifting IS part of my repertoire... but my natural form is decidedly human. Plus I don't do the whole "flame" thing, it's more of an obscuring white glow. And gaining sustenance from emotions? Not even close.
I was going to say that I would now be commenting once per chapter because I admit I've been spacing out my readings here way too long, and making long comments based on two chapters was honestly rather taxing.
What I didn't expect was that of all the chapters to switch up my reading gears on, it's this one.
Out of the gate, any of the out-of-the-box theories (like there being no changeling at all or perhaps one of them having been a changeling the whole time, from the beginning of their friendship in CCB) will have to take a back burner. I can still see the latter proposal to be true, especially since Zorn's speech from Chapter 3 about abuse takes on a poignant turn if he knew that one of his friends wasn't just a changeling but had been one since the start, but for now, I'll have to get back to square one (and this time not take more than one peek at the comments because I'd rather see how much I'd fare and not just copy what others might've said).
The reason for that step back is, well, the changeling being found out.
But before that, a quick word on Bon. It's understandable that he's... well, off-kilter, and I think this is where the story goes from just being a good mystery to being something more. A changeling puzzle to solve would already be nice, but we get to see more of a personal angle to it. "And here I thought the investigators would be asking me much more practical questions." And I can blame it on the fact that, well, the usual mystery story doesn't have a criminal who feeds on actual love, but the premise here continues to pay dividends, because I already expect that Bon having more than just feelings for Grid will either distort or fall into the changeling's plans, whether he's one of the two or if he's a passive observer who's still siphoning off of the maybe-relationship (it makes me go back to Girard's last words to Grid in Chapter 4 before he flies off).
Now, notably, the changeling didn't turn into Blanche nor Girard... which seems well accounted for when Pesco's first two guests to round up for round two of questioning would be those two. But then, that doesn't mean much when the actual Gloria's attitude makes this Gloria's arrival with Grid rather too on the nose suspicion-wise (does she not know where she picked up Grid, with Grid himself in her claws?) I can not rule out that, for some reason, she may be trying to do some actual diplomacy with the changeling or even the changeling kingdom, and this incident is her opportunity to take it... far-fetched? But it does mean that she's not likely to be the changeling herself, in my eyes. And as for Grid, he's still just there, not doing much, and no, being oblivious to a deer's advances doesn't count as doing much. Unless that is the point: take in the love, not give much back by feigning ignorance... but then a changeling might notice that said love would be strained since he could detect that Bon was getting frustrated at not getting any definite answers from Grid. So yes, even before talking about the rest of the characters, I still say Grid is my best bet, and to even torture a tiny detail to prove my point, Grid isn't the first nor last disguise that the changeling takes during the fight (discounting Pesco). Grid is the third disguise, and we all know how we like the rule of three.
Okay, that bit about the number three is really pushing it, but the rest of my suspicion on Grid stands.
As for the others: Girard is almost a no-show, but I'm neutral on him as per my previous comment about him being siblings with Gloria making things complicated for a changeling. While Zorn seems to be the most suspicious because he's just taken a walk in the freezing blizzard cold after being sick for more than several days, having come back right after the changeling left, I'm not gonna move him up my suspect list just yet until after the questioning begins again.
Away from guessing, though, for a first act, this is well done. It's a good choice to have the changeling appear this early in, because now, there's been a taste of the premise's promise being answered: here's the changeling! And it also doesn't do much, which isn't a bad thing; it just raises enough interest and questions that will fuel at least the next few chapters alone.
I am concerned about this round of questioning, though, because unless I've misunderstood Zorn's speech, this may be exactly what he wanted to avoid, especially his bit about ponies' herd mentality (given that the detectives are ponies and one of his friends is a pony too... but he too is a herd animal as well as the deer siblings). In fact, I would consider it a grace that one of them is a changeling, because at least there's something concrete to argue about (versus the theory that no one is changeling), but no matter how it ends, we're at least going to see friendships bruised.
In that, though, there is a sliver of hope, because there is a question that I'm not sure the story is supposed to answer: How does a changeling react to the opposite of love? Is it just another emotion, or does it operate like poison? If it's the latter, then needing someone to take refuge in as a battery of love, even when everyone else is against him, would be necessary... and suddenly, the changeling being one of the two siblings isn't all that bad of an idea.
I'm still saying it's Grid, though.
.huh. I was actually kinda right. Not in the way I thought, though.
Okay. After this chapter I'll concede my chapter 1 guess; even if Girard's been replaced, I didn't guess it for the right reasons. The shape shifting means this isn't the bloodless murder mystery I've been thinking of it as. At this point I'm more so expecting no one is replaced, but the changeling is juggling all 6 (now 8!) identities as needed.