'M' is for Knowledge
As the old wizard plodded home, changeling in tow, they received an inordinate number of stares from passers-by. Whether this was because they saw a little grey colt floating about in a magical bubble or because of because of how Star was dressed, Stasis couldn’t say.
What was more important, however, was that Stasis had finally managed to control and stop his rotation via careful swim-like strokes against the air. This was good, as the doughnuts from earlier had been churned up during the battle, and all the spinning had confused Stasis’ stomach; it didn’t seem to remember which end of the little changeling it was supposed to use, and he had started to feel very sick. While he had liked the sugary pastries well enough, he hadn’t liked them so much that he wanted them floating around with him in his little bubble.
Tummy tamed, Stasis began to wonder how things might have gone if Star Swirl didn’t hate the little changeling so much.
‘Aye, your mighty display sent my bells a-jingling with fright!’ he might have said.
‘Aye, like a wee little girl I am next to you, lad! Hohohohoho!’ he might have said.
‘Aye, would you like to ride home in a magic bubble?’ he might have said.
Instead, Stasis could feel the anger roiling about under the big pony’s skin, a few other emotions such as fear and relief floating about like potaters in a pot of boiling water. The little changeling began to grow nervous.
…Star wouldn’t really hurt Stasis, would he? The little changeling still vividly remembered the time he had finally managed to escape from his guardians; he had wandered the forest for a little while before hiding in a cave. It had seemed like a really good idea at the time. He figured that they would give up looking for him after a while, and then he could go exploring on his own like all the other younglings. He would just go back home when he got hungry and explain that he had gotten lost. Noling would be the wiser.
It wasn’t his fault that there was an Ursa Major in that cave, or that he woke it up from its nap. If his siblings had let him go exploring like he wanted to, then they probably would have bothered to explain to him that caves in the forest are rarely unoccupied, and nothing bad ever would have happened.
When the Ursa chased him back home, trees shattering like twigs under its paws, jaws snapping at him like he was just a little fly…that had been the second…no, the third-scariest moment of his life up until now. The scariest moment of his life, though, was after Mother had finished killing the Ursa and lost her clutch. She had looked really pale and sick and blood had still been dripping out of her nethers while she told her biggest, strongest warriors, the Killings, what they were going to do to Stasis. After he got better, the little changeling had never, ever tried to go out on his own again.
Nothing Star Swirl could do could possibly be as bad as what had happened to him back then, he was certain…but the old wizard was an old wizard, after all. He could still probably do all kinds of terrible things to Stasis, if he wanted to. He could take away Stasis’ horn, and leave him just a boring earth-pony-changeling. He could turn Stasis into a giant potater and cook him up in a stew with lots and lots of vegetables. Or worse…he could even use an age spell and make Stasis into a creaky, grumpy old geezer like he was. The stories told of all the horrible things a high-level wizard could do to you if you made him angry enough.
As the paint-peeling walls of the old pony mansion finally came into view, Stasis made one last, desperate attempt to break free from his bubble, this time using his own magic to try to dispel that which held him. It should have been easy…the more magic something has, the ‘slippier’ it is to levitate, and despite his littleness, Stasis had an awful lot of magic in his body to be levitated. But Star Swirl’s spell was a vice; Stasis strained and pushed until his horn began to fizzle and pop and ache, and he still couldn’t feel any give at all. The old pony didn’t even seem to notice.
They entered the house – Stasis giving a small yelp as his head nearly smacked into the doorframe – and Star Swirl walked slowly across the floor to the fireplace, turned around, sat on his haunches, and set Stasis gently down on the floor, removing his spell with a small flash. Stasis thought about running away again, but the old pony’s expression suggested that that would be unwise.
Star Swirl cleared his throat. “Now. Lad. Why don’t we start with why you didn’t come home after school.”
Stasis had prepared for exactly this question. “Well, you never told me to come home straight after school,” he challenged. It was true; if he had known that he was supposed to come home right away, he would have been more careful not to get caught.
Star opened his mouth, expression wrathful, but then he seemed to bite off his reply. After a few moments of glowering, he said, “Fine. I can accept that there’s a glimmer of a sliver of a chance that you didn’t know what you were doing was wrong. But from now on, if I didn’t tell you to do something, and it’s something you actually want to do, odds are good it’s something you shouldn't. Understand, lad?” The look he gave Stasis suggested that he better understand.
The little changeling nodded. He had known for quite some time now that if he wanted to do something, it was probably something bad. That’s just how he rolled.
Glad that the two of them could reach such an understanding, Stasis got up and turned to leave.
“Next I time I see that backside before I want to see it, lad, I’ll give it a cutie-mark the shape and size of my hoof.”
Stasis sat back down.
“Not coming home was just a misdemeanor, lad,” the old pony continued menacingly. “Now we talk about the felony.”
Stasis didn’t like the sound of this. He wondered if he should seek counsel.
“Why,” Star continued in a suddenly ever-so-agreeable tone of voice, “did I find you smack-dab in the middle of beating up Pierce at the park today? Explain it to me. I’m all ears.” Surrounded in a glow of magic, the wizard’s hat lifted off his head and Stasis could see that the aforementioned appendages were indeed perked forward, ready and eager to listen to the little changeling’s explanation.
“Well,” Stasis began sensibly, “if you hadn’t shown up at the park when you did….”
“Really, lad?” The big pony cut him off rudely, setting his hat back on his head. “Really? That’s what you’re going with, a smart-arse comment? Because a truly smart lad would know better than to push my buttons right now.”
Stasis decided that the old pony had a point. Thinking quickly, he realized that if he lied, Star Swirl could probably just cross-examine the other ponies at the park, and they would probably not go out of their way to portray the little changeling in a positive light. He had seen Mother use that technique before, when she wanted to get to the truth of a matter. That’s why Stasis tried to remember not to lie outright about things he had done when there were witnesses. He would just have to risk the truth and see where that got him.
“Well,” he began again, “the other ponies were making fun of me because I wasn’t as good at Frisbee as them.” He had just cause.
“And?”
“And…I didn’t like it?” he offered. Though ‘hated’ would have been a better word. He’d been keeping a mental list of all his siblings who mocked him for some time now. It was a big list.
“And?” the old pony said again.
“And…I figured out that Pierce was their leader, and then beat him up?” He saw the look on Star’s face, and then hastily added, “But I only beat him up because I wanted to be their leader instead! If it hadn’t been for that, I might’ve just as easily beaten up one of the others.”
Thinking on what he had said for a few moments, Stasis wondered if maybe he could have phrased that in a different way.
“Oh?” Star Swirl’s eyes widened. “Oh! I get it.” He nodded. “So what you’re saying is that if I know somepony who makes me angry and I want to be the boss of, I should, I don’t know, just go grab one of the frying pans out of the kitchen and beat his little hiney red?” He raised an eyebrow inquisitively.
Stasis shook his head. “No, you should use a Frisbee instead,” he explained. Then frowned.
“Wait…were you talking about me?”
Star Swirl put his face in his hooves. “Oh, stars above…what I am going to do with you, lad?”
“You could make me cut the lawn again.”
The old pony groaned. “Oh, lad…just…just go to your room for right now. I have to think about this.”
Stasis obeyed eagerly. He hadn’t been beaten, or yelled at, or turned into anything unnatural at all; it had gone even better than he had hoped. Still…maybe he should avoid getting into any more fights for a few days, until Star Swirl forgot about this whole business.
Well…initiating any fights, at least. Anypony who picked a fight with Stasis were getting what was coming to them: round, red, and right across the bottom.
As he shut the door to his room behind him, however, he realized that he was already bored. Thinking of the things he could do, he happened to notice his bed, just sitting over there next to the wall. Serving no useful purpose, really, now that it wasn’t bedtime. Images of a little changeling bouncing on that bed began to play through his mind.
Just as his hooves began to take him towards the mattress of their own accord, another thought occurred to him. Star Swirl had a bed. That one wasn’t doing anything either; just sitting there, waiting for someling to bounce on it.
It was only as he was in the finishing stages of the phase spell that would take him through the wall and into the next room (not wishing the sound of opening doors to alert Star Swirl to his scheme) that he realized the critical flaw in the plan: he was exhausted. All of today, in fact, had been exhausting. He had been doing nothing but something from the time he had gotten up until now. He needed to nap, pronto.
Now that he was considering the bed’s natural function, he found himself much less interested. Since it was daytime, he figured that he could get away with not using it. He instead looked about the room’s plank floor carefully.
Normally he’d make a little pile of leaves and moss wherever he wanted to nap, but seeing no such materials lying about, he instead took some small pleasure in tearing the blankets off of Star’s ever-so-carefully-made bed. Dragging them over to the corner of the room behind the bedframe, he arranged them into a small, soft nest; sort of like Mother’s nest, but more Stasis-sized, and without all the eggs.
Not bothering with formalities, the little changeling collapsed into his nest, carefully aiming his body as it fell so that it would land right about the center.
…And he awoke some time later. He wasn’t sure why he’d woken up, except that he didn’t like it.
“Come on, lad. I need to talk to you.”
He didn’t like it one bit. He mumbled something that might have been ‘please, go ahead and talk,’ but he was already asleep again before he could hear the words and find out.
…A strange sensation enveloped the little changeling…a sort of weightlessness, much like what he had experienced when he was in his bubble. He would have thought he was dreaming, save that the dream only seemed to make him sleepier. He felt his body turning slightly, and then his hooves made contact with a hard floor and he felt his weight dragging him down again. He would have fallen back asleep just standing there, but then his eyes opened of their own accord. Before him was a wizard.
“That’s better,” the hairy old wizard said. “I take it you’re listening close? This is important.”
Stasis nodded solemnly. The part where Star Swirl had mind-controlled his eyelids had woken him up.
“Good. Now, lad….” The old pony stroked his beard absently, looking uncomfortable. “I know things have been rough on you these past few days. Losing your family…living in a new place…all of that. And so first off, I just want to say that, given the circumstances, you’ve been very brave.”
Stasis nodded again. It was true; he was very brave.
The old pony’s blue eyes met the little changeling’s yellow ones. “But lad, you have to stop causing mischief. When you didn’t come home from school, I thought….” Star Swirl shook his head. “Well, I thought something terrible might have happened, and how was I to know any different if I didn’t know where you were?”
Star lifted his backside and, levitating Stasis’ nest beneath him, he sat on it. Stasis hoped that it wouldn’t smell like mothballs and dusty old books from now on.
“And as for Pierce….” the wizened old wizard continued. “Let me explain something to you, lad. Remember how I said he was the Chief Constable’s son?”
Stasis nodded, more hesitantly this time. He hadn’t even thought about the fact that Pierce would have a father around. He wasn’t going to come beat up Stasis now, was he? Is that what pony fathers did?
Oblivious to the little changeling’s concern, Star continued, “Well, Pierce’s dad Sampson is as close a friend as I have on the city council. With everypony else it’s always, ‘Good morning, Mr. Swirl,’ or ‘That sounds like a fantastic idea, Mr. Swirl.’ With Sampson, though, it’s always been, ‘Why do you always dress like such a ninny, Mr. Swirl?’ or ‘That idea sounds like it came from the bottom of a barrel of my granny’s apple cider, Mr. Swirl.’”
The old pony sighed. “He always was such big, jolly ass.”
“Pierce’s father is a donkey?” Stasis exclaimed. His tutors must have gotten the whole pony-donkey-mule thing completely mixed up.
Star gave the confused little changeling an exasperated look. “Not that kind of ass, lad. Anyway, what I was trying to say is that Big Sampson was lucky enough not to be in the Constable headquarters when the changeling queen brought it down. Unluckily…most of his friends were.
“A group of most of the remaining constables and a number of other brave ponies had taken up position behind a barricade of rubble and overturned carriages that they’d set up in the middle of the road, trying to keep her attention on them until help could arrive.” Star shook his head. “Well, it worked – the distraction I mean, not the barricade. While she was cutting them down, Sampson picked up a big, broken piece of glass and snuck around behind her. And-” The old pony’s voice cracked a little. He cleared his throat and continued, “And do you know what happened, lad?”
“What?” Stasis asked, eyes wide.
“Well, she noticed him, apparently. Poor fellow was meant for eating and laughing, serving warrants and breaking up marital disputes, not sneaking and killing. She took the piece of glass away with her magic, sat on her haunches, picked him up in her hooves like he was a just a child such as yourself, and broke his back right across her knee. Didn’t say a word, just threw him away like he was a piece of trash she found by the side of the road.”
Star stopped then and gave the little changeling an expectant look. Stasis fidgeted uncomfortably; he wasn’t sure what he was supposed to say. After a few moment he offered, “Well, if Sampson and the others hadn’t tried to kill…the queen, then maybe they wouldn’t have gotten hurt so badly.”
They might have been drained of some of their energy, or even their blood, but they probably would have recovered. The small hamlets and villages out west knew better than to fight back piecemeal if changelings were attacking.
The old pony sighed and shook his head sadly. “Maybe so, lad. But I suppose my point is that Pierce’s dad is a cripple now, and I’m surprised the colt’s even back in school so soon. He’s a good, strong lad, just like his father.” Star’s gaze looked distant for a few moments before he continued, “When I put you in the fifth grade, I had hoped that the older students would keep you from causing trouble. Obviously I was wrong.”
Stasis fidgeted some more. “Well, I-“
“I’m going to be straight with you, lad,” Star Swirl interrupted. “I can’t make you be good. I can’t make you do what’s right. And if you want to mess with me, in my house, that’s one thing. I’m a tough old nut; I can take it. But if you misbehave out there-“ the old pony said, gesturing towards downtown Trottingham, “if you lie, or if you steal, or if, stars forbid, you hurt other ponies….” The big wizard shook his head, his expression taut. “There’s going to be trouble, lad. Not trouble for me. Not trouble for Pierce. Trouble for you, lad.”
Stasis shifted. “What kind of trouble?”
“Big trouble,” Star clarified. “The kind that really, really makes you wish you had listened to old Star Swirl when you had the chance.”
Old Star Swirl stared at the little changeling, expression intense, and finally Stasis couldn’t stand it anymore.
“I promise I won’t be as bad,” he said, not sure if he meant it and not really caring at the moment.
“Oh, don’t promise anything to me, lad. It’s not me that I’m worried about. It’s you. You’ve got a sharp mind, a strong body, and magic like I’ve not seen in a lad your age. I just don’t want to see you throw all that away for nothing.”
Stasis really, really hoped that this conversation was over soon. He liked jerk-Star Swirl a lot more than…whatever this was.
The old pony looked contemplative. “Throw them away…what does…oh! Right.”
A familiar rectangle levitated out of some dark recess of the wizard’s cape.
“That reminds me. I realized after I sent you up here that I had left your saddlebags at the park, and was just getting up the gumption to go get them when there was a knock on the door, and lo and behold, I found some orange colt out on the steps with your bags. What a nice lad. I gave him a cookie. Anyway –“
“A cookie?” Stasis queried.
Star looked at him for a moment and then laughed. “Ha! You didn’t think all I had around here were fruits and vegetables, did you? Goodness, no. Old stallion’s got to keep his blood sugar up.”
Stasis demanded an explanation. “Wait, why does Major get a cookie when he’s here three minutes, and I don’t get one after three days?”
The cruel old wizard chortled. “As if you would ever save me a trip halfway across town! Ha! If you’d been in this ‘Major’s’ place, the most I ever would have found at that park would be ‘Stasis was here,’ etched out on the grass with the ashes of common decency and civilized thought.”
Stasis pouted. He wanted a cookie.
“Anyway…what was I talking about?” Star Swirl seemed to notice the envelope floating in front of his face. “Oh. Right. As I was saying, lad, I found this letter in your bags. Your teacher had some…interesting comments regarding your education that I think we need to talk about.”
Stasis frowned. “You looked through my stuff?”
The little changeling hadn’t really had stuff before. Well, not unless you counted the pile of odds and ends that he kept buried in his super-special secret spot by the riverbank. (There was no such thing as ‘petty’ theft when you were being watched all the time.)
Now that he had stuff, though, he found that he didn’t really like ponies nosing about in it without his permission. It wasn’t polite.
A bushy eyebrow was raised. “Your stuff? I think you’re confused, lad. You don’t have stuff. But I did look through my stuff, and what should I find but a letter from your teacher about her concern that maybe, just maybe, you can’t do multiplication. Is that true?”
“I can do it,” Stasis explained irritably. “I just don’t know how.”
Star rubbed his forehead with one hoof. “Okay, how about this.”
A piece of paper and a pencil floated out of the wizard’s cape and in front of Stasis. The little changeling had never been gladder that he could use magic; the last thing he wanted to do with anything that came out of the nooks and crannies of the old pony’s clothes was hold it in his mouth. Stasis knew enough about clothes to know that if you wanted to wash them, you had to take them off every once in a while.
Stasis bent down and carefully examined the squiggles. He then looked up at Star. The old unicorn rubbed harder.
“Please tell me you know how to add, Stasis. Please? Come on, lad. I need this.”
“Of course I can add!” Stasis spat back. He was a great adder! In the whole family, only Chigger was better, and that’s all Chigger could do. He couldn’t even put on a decent masque without help; every time he tried, he’d always forget to give his face eyes or a mouth or anything and would end up scaring the hatchlings half-to-death.
“Two plus nine.”
“Eleven!” Stasis said automatically.
“Thirteen plus fifty-eight.”
“…Seventy-one!”
“Three hundred and ninety-eight plus six hundred and fifty-two.”
That one took Stasis a minute. His brow furrowed while he worked it out.
“…One thousand…and fifty?”
Star snorted. “If you can add triple-digit numbers in your head, then why can’t you solve four plus five?” He gestured at the piece of paper.
“Well, how am I supposed to know it says four plus five if you don’t tell me?” Stasis explained to the foolish old pony. “We don’t have all this stuff where I live, like paper and pencils and things.” And they didn’t have money or schools either. If ponies got rid of those things then they wouldn’t have to know how to do multiplication either, and he bet their lives would be much easier.
“…Oh.” Star frowned. “Wait a second. Are you telling me you can’t read?”
“No, not really,” Stasis admitted freely. He didn’t like not knowing things, but he liked vexing the old pony even more.
Star stared at him. “Say something fancy for me.”
The little changeling thought for a minute before saying, “Thy beard is as luscious as thy countenance is puckered and thy manner, irascible.” That’s how Stasis was supposed to talk if he ever got invited to a pre-chaos fair.
“…Right. And you can’t recite the alphabet?”
“Alphabet?” Stasis asked quizzically. (He actually knew perfectly well what an alphabet was, but the look on Star’s face was priceless.)
“Stars have mercy….” The old pony closed his eyes and began rubbing his forehead again. Stasis just watched the wrinkles come and go, come and go, come and go….
“Alright,” Star said suddenly, startling the little changeling out of his reverie. “Okay. New plan, lad. You’re going to be homeschooled.”
“Huh?” Stasis queried.
Homeschooled? That might have appealed to him that morning, but now he had a new playground, a new companion, and a whole host of new enemies. He wasn’t sure he was willing to give all that up.
He was about to object when the old pony continued, “Aye, but don’t worry; you’ll still be going to regular school too.”
“Huh!” Stasis protested.
The old pony stroked his beard absently. “Aye, you’ll go to school in the morning, and then I’ll teach you reading, writing, and arithmetic in the evening. You’re a bright lad…you’ll be caught up to the other students before you know it.” Star Swirl sounded less like he was trying to convince Stasis, and more like he was trying to convince Star Swirl.
“That’s…but…I….” Stasis sputtered. This was quite possibly the worst plan that had ever come out of any pony’s head, even Star Swirl’s.
“School ends at noon,” the crazy old pony continued. “As long as you let me know where you’re going to be, you can stay out until…two in the afternoon should work. Then I’ll teach you until dinner, perhaps I’ll even show you a new spell afterwards, and after that you might have a little extra time until bed. Oh, and you’ll also need to study most of Saturday…and then you can have Sundays off,” Star finished.
Stasis had a lingering suspicion that the old pony had made all that stuff up on the spot. Rather than immediately point out the critical flaw in Star’s plan – namely, that it was stupid – Stasis took a moment to try to think of any words in Equestrian or the old tongue that adequately encompassed the depths and tone of his feelings towards this new proposal. A special plan like this deserved special words indeed.
Star Swirl seemed to note his expression, however, and nodded. “Aye, lad, it sucks; it truly does. I’m eighty-two years old and still the best magician that this country’s got; I have better things to do than try to give some little rascal a decent education. But the only other option is to put you back in the first grade where you belong, where the only thing you have to look forward to is watching kids suck their hooves and show you their boogers.”
He tapped his chin thoughtfully. “Come to think of it…it would keep you out of my beard, and that’s pretty much the main advantage of public schools these days, if you ask me. Think of all the work I could get done if I didn’t have you around to keep out of mischief.” The old pony gave Stasis a wry look. “What do you say, lad? Want to march up through school one grade at a time, like all the other colts your age?”
Stasis snorted contemptuously. Star Swirl had better things to do than teach Stasis? And what was that? Was he going to stand about on the lawn all day, letting beard and grass flow and grow together into one luscious, unruly mass? Or perhaps he would spend his last days practicing his multiplication, resting easy in the knowledge that if there was ever an orchard with apples that needed counting, he would be the one they called?
No, no, he knew what the old pony would do: the pony would go looking for Stasis, that’s what. Frankly, Stasis wasn’t sure what Star had done before he had a little changeling around to take care of. Maybe he just wasn’t good at anything else these days, being so old and all.
Stasis, now. There were all kinds of things Stasis could do. He could play on the slide, or the roundabout, or maybe even the swings again…he could go find the fillies in the park and play the rope-jumping game, he could eat new things at the pastry store, or he could even go learn how bricks are made so that he could add an up-scale housing district to Stasisgrad. The possibilities were limited only by his imagination, and Stasis had a better imagination than any pony.
On the other hoof, the little changeling wasn’t like every other colt his age, and he didn’t want things to be any easier on Star Swirl than they had to be. Multiplication seemed a bit useless, but maybe if he learned to read, he could take some of the old wizard’s books back with him to the forest? Books on history, maybe. A book or two on science, but not flower-science. And as many books on black magic as he could lay his hooves on; that way, he could just raise any of his siblings who had died back to life. Mother would like that.
Stasis was still contemplating this when the old pony said, “I tell you what. Come along downstairs with me, and I’ll teach you a little about reading before dinner. You can decide what you want to do after that.” Star turned about and went back downstairs, the little changeling following a few moments later.
The elderly unicorn stopped in front of one of the bookshelves and, squinting slightly, began looking at them each in turn. As he searched, he said, “Normally, a teacher’d start you off with…I don’t know…Run, Blaze, Run, or something like that. I figure that’s about when most kids start to think that reading is boring.”
The old pony snorted, which blew up a small puff of dust and caused him to sneeze. Wiping his nose with one hoof, Star continued, “Anyway…what was I saying? Oh, right. Well, if you want to teach yourself how to read, lad, you’re more than welcome to go to the library and take out all the little kid’s books you want…but if I’m going to do it, we’re going to skip the boring part and get straight to the fun. Trouble is, I haven’t referenced this book in such a long time, I can’t recall where on this blasted bookshelf I put it….”
“I thought you would sooner mislay your own tail than one of your precious books,” Stasis reminded the absent-minded old geezer helpfully.
Star paused in his quest long enough to give the little changeling a baleful look. “You know, I’m beginning to think that the first grade may be a bit too advanced for you, lad. Maybe I should send you to preschool instead, where you can learn all about wooden blocks, story-time, and the wisdom of using my own words against me.”
Stasis actually thought story-time sounded quite intriguing, but since it was obviously supposed to be a little-kid’s concept, he didn’t say anything.
Scanning the shelves again, the old pony continued, “Anyway, I didn’t mislay it, lad. I laid it exactly where it’s supposed to go. I just forgot where that is.”
Something about that statement seemed suspect to Stasis. Before he could figure out what it was, though, Star Swirl let out an ‘Aha!’ and the biggest book Stasis had ever seen – which wasn’t saying much, but still, it was a really big book – was wrapped in blue light and levitated off of the lowest shelf.
In fact, ‘book’ didn’t really seem like the right word. ‘Tome’ seemed more appropriate; it had to have weighed at least as much as Stasis himself. Star Swirl set the book down on a rare empty spot on one of the wooden tables like it was his hatchling instead of his hardcover.
“Fang’s Physiologus,” the old pony said with an air of reverence that the little changeling hadn’t thought him capable of. “A masterpiece.” Star sighed with pleasure. “If it weren’t already written, I think I’d have to write it myself, it’s just so good.”
It was an impressive book, but Stasis didn’t think the old pony was talking about its size. “What’s so good about it?” he asked cautiously. If a pony like Star Swirl thought it was exciting, its boringness was probably of dangerous proportions.
“Come and take a look, lad,” Star said, patting a spot on the bench in front of the book. “It won’t bite. Although…if head, hoof, or hide of you should touch this book….” The old wizard smiled. “I will.”
Stasis did not feel reassured. He carefully rested his hindquarters on the bench and stared down at the massive volume. It appeared even older than most of the other books in Star Swirl’s house, its hard outer cover composed of what looked and smelled like manticore skin that had been dyed a deep black and stretched across some hard surface, probably wood. Words – Stasis could not justly call them squiggles – were emblazoned across the front in golden, flowing script.
“What does it say?” Stasis asking, pointing at the cover, very careful that neither head, nor hoof, nor hide of him should touch the book. Star Swirl wasn’t one of those old ponies who had lost all their teeth, unfortunately.
The toothed pony seemed pleased by the question. “Well, normally the cover of the book is the title. This is a very, very, very old book though, and the front just says, So Saith Fang, Son of Light, Physiologus of Life’s Great Work and Herald of the Threads of Fate.”
“Huh?” Stasis asked.
Star Swirl shrugged. “Everypony just calls it the Physiologus. Keeps life easy.”
“But what does all that stuff mean?” Stasis asked again.
“It means that Fang wrote it, and the rest is just a very cryptic description of who he considers himself to be. A ‘physiologus’ is sort of like a scientist of the old days; a herald is someone who proclaims something; ‘life’s great work’ presumably refers to every living thing in the world; ‘son of light’ is a reference either to his father’s name or to some religious or philosophical concept; and ‘herald of the threads of fate’ probably means that he thinks himself something of a fortune-teller, astrologer, or historian. And just like how many of the books back in those days didn’t really have formal titles, many of the writers would treat the forces of nature as people, similar to how poets nowadays talk as if Celestia is the sun itself, or the moon and Luna are the same thing.”
The old pony smiled. “Actually, now that I think about, I’ve got a book called On the Meaning of the Titular Inscription on the Cover of the Magnum Opus Colloquially Referred to as the ‘Physiologus’ that I can let you read later, once you learn how.” He raised a bushy eyebrow challengingly. “Any more questions, lad?”
Stasis tried to process all this information, but his brain felt…constipated. Mother was ancient and knew all kinds of things; maybe he could ask her about some of this when he got back.
“So…it is worth a lot of money?” he finally asked. His siblings had explained to him that some things were worth a lot new and then less when they got old, while other things were worth little new and then a lot when they got old. Those were called ‘antiques.’ He wondered if the book was an antique.
Star nodded. “More than the rest of my collection combined, lad, and some of these books I have are worth more than this house. That’s why I thought you were a thief when you first showed up; we don’t have very many thieves around here, but even a good pony can be tempted to dishonesty if the reward is great enough.”
Stasis tucked this information away for later.
The old pony continued, “The very first edition of the Physiologus was actually made in prehistoric times, not long after the three tribes came down from the far north and first founded Equestria. Supposedly Fang himself spent decades writing each book out by claw and giving them as gifts to the various peoples of the world. Unfortunately, most of them had no written language yet…and he had apparently decided that binding the books in decorative amalgams of each of the skins of the world’s speaking races was somehow a good idea. The book never really took off, and he was a bit miffed at the time.
“The second edition, on the other hoof, wasn’t made until shortly after the Reign of Chaos, when ponies had finally begun making books and keeping records again. Fang updated it significantly, reflecting the status of the world as it was at that point; he even thought to use animal skin, though given that the majority of the sapient races are herbivores, it still wasn’t very popular. Rumor even has it that the gryphons ate their copies.” Star shook his head with disgust. “Ignorant brutes.”
“So this is a second edition?” Stasis asked, interested in what lecturer-Star Swirl was saying despite himself.
The old wizard nodded. “Aye, lad. An original second edition, which is why it’s worth so darn much. Even the copies cost more than most ponies could hope to ever afford; there’s only a few of either left in the world today, and most of them are holed up in the libraries of noble houses, admired but never read.” Star Swirl snorted contemptuously.
“As for the first edition, there were no copies ever made, and the last of the first editions perished in a fire centuries ago.” Star shuddered, as if he could feel the flames himself. “What a loss! All we have now are a few odd fragments and passing references from contemporaries, just enough to let us know that the first second edition was very different from the second.”
The old bibliophile closed his eyes and sighed. “If I could just lay my hooves on a first edition…oh, how I would read that book…aye…I would read the heck out of that thing….”
Stasis was getting creeped out. He quickly asked, “What is Fang, anyway? Is he a changeling?” Fang must be really, really old, and since none of the three living gods Stasis knew about were named Fang, then maybe he was a prince. Stasis liked the idea of a prince writing books; all the ones he knew about just lounged around and had children most of the time.
“Hmm?” Star blinked, as if Stasis had woken him from a dream. “Oh. I suppose I forgot to mention that, didn’t I? Well, Fang’s a dragon, lad. One of the oldest. I was just wondering if he had any more first editions lying around in his lair somewhere…I’d ask him myself, but no one’s seen him leave his home in the Gloaming for ages. Literally.”
Stasis drew back from the book slightly. Even though he knew it couldn’t hurt him, he wasn’t sure he wanted to have anything to do with a dragon. They were terrible, dangerous creatures; one had tried to murder Father once, hundreds of years before Stasis hatched. It had hunted Father for many days and nights, burning down huge swathes of the forest and herding him away from his wives, who had no idea that their mate was in dire peril. By covering himself in mud, Father had managed to hide himself from the dragon’s sight, smell, and heat-sense long enough to ambush and kill it…but not before it ate both his hind legs and burnt his wings to a crisp. All his wives and children, Mother included, had had to leave their homes and rally around to protect him for months until everything grew back.
“Don’t worry, lad. The book itself is harmless. It’s –“
“Star Swirl?”
“Aye, lad?”
“What’s the book actually about?”
The bearded old pony stared him for a few moments. “Oh. Right,” he finally said, clearing his throat. “Let’s get to it, then.” The book shone blue, and the cover lifted.
Stasis had seen pony art before, bits and pieces of paintings and sculptures that changelings brought back to the family as collector’s items, or to give to each other or Mother as gifts. But he had never seen anything like this.
The first page was a single image, a single scene encompassing every speaking creature Stasis had ever seen or even heard of, including sheep, goats, and donkeys; mules, cows, and buffalo; diamond dogs, horses, and minotaurs. Each appeared engaged in some kind of activity that uniquely exemplified that race’s attitude and culture…or at least what their attitude and culture must have been centuries ago, when the book was made.
There were zebras, adorned with golden jewelry and varicolored paint, chanting incantations and hurling potions at an approaching swarm of parasprites that were devouring their crops and fields. There were gryphonic berserkers, faces plucked and strange shapes and symbols scarred upon their skin, their eyes red with rage as they tore at each other’s throats with sharpened beaks and rent each other’s wings with steel-sheathed claws. There was even a stone statue of a draconequus, standing in the midst of the battles and carnage of the other races, his expression that of joy and laughter. Discord, petrified god of chaos, looking not at all upset that his race was long dead and his Reign finally ended.
Stasis’ eyes, though, were soon drawn to the top of the page. In the sky, far above the squabbles and troubles of the other species, a lone dragon and changeling were locked in battle. The drake was beautiful, scales of silver and eyes of gold, emerald flame spilling from the great lizard’s throat and washing over his foe like a tide.
But it was the changeling who drew Stasis’ gaze. The changeling’s eyes shone like sunflowers; upon his back were wings, long and glistening iridescent in the cloudless sky; a twisted horn jutted proudly from his brow; and teal locks cascaded down his head and face and neck, blowing back slightly under the force of the dragonsbreath. Even as fire swathed his body below the neck, his face bore the same look Celestia had had: determination. Strength. And a cold fury that was terrible to behold. The creature radiated a nobility and eternality such as Stasis had never seen, and it was for the dragon he feared, not the prince.
Stasis pointed at the changeling. “Who’s that?” he asked. He had never met any other prince except for Father, but if a creature like this still lived, surely Stasis would have heard of him.
Star shrugged. “I don’t think it’s supposed to be anyling, lad. According to the Physiologus, changelings and dragons have hated each other since prehistoric times. I think it’s just supposed to be an archetype for all changelings, same as the dragon.”
Stasis continued to stare at the other prince. This was supposed to be someling; he was sure of it. If he was still alive, he would be of the eldest fathers. If Stasis ever got to meet any of them, he would be sure to look for the one from this painting.
After a few quiet minutes, Stasis noticed something.
“Where are the ponies?” he asked.
Star snorted and pointed at the bottom right corner of the picture. Stasis saw that there were a few ponies standing about, nibbling grass serenely, and a familiar (but younger) white alicorn watched them doing so with a big, slightly idiotic grin on her face. A smaller, dark blue alicorn with an impassive expression stood aloof to the side, as if she had better things to do. Stasis couldn’t blame her.
“Fang,” Star said, “did all of the illustrations in his book himself, of course. He’s…not particularly fond of ponies.” He shrugged. “In case you couldn’t tell.”
Stasis decided that Fang was a rather clever dragon, as far as dragons go.
“What do you think, lad?” the old wizard asked.
Stasis pondered the question carefully. “This,” he declared with finality, “is a good picture.”
Star nodded solemnly. “Aye, lad. That it is. And do you know what page that is, lad?”
“What page is it?” Stasis asked expectantly.
“That,” Star said, “is page one.”
Stasis blinked. “How many pages are there?”
“Hundreds, lad. Hundreds. Many of them with pictures just like this one.”
Star began looking about the room, as if somepony might be hiding in the dark corners or under one of the benches. And as if he could actually see them if they were.
“To tell you the truth, lad….” Star said in a hushed voice. “I’ve always had a thing for books with pictures.”
Stasis nodded with understanding. He had never read a book, but if he had, it would definitely have been a book with pictures.
“Here, let me show you something else, lad. Since you were so interested in the changeling on the first page….”
With a gentle blue light, the unicorn slowly turned the pages to a section farther in. There, Stasis saw a colored, full-page diagram of an adult changeling prince, done in wondrous detail. The prince appeared as if cut in half, with elegant squiggles above dark lines that pointed to different organs and parts of the body. Stasis analyzed it carefully, until he realized what the dragon must have done to get such detailed knowledge of a changeling prince’s anatomy; then he drew back slightly. But only slightly.
“And this,” the old pony said, pointing at the opposite page, which was crammed full of more looping, flowing squiggles interspersed with the occasional smaller, simpler diagram, “is the beginning of what, after all these many centuries, is still the longest, most detailed and – as far as I can tell – accurate depiction of changelings in the world. It covers changeling mythology, history, biology…there’s sections on eating habits, communal organization, and migrational patterns…pretty much anything you can think of. Other parts of the book have similar information on every speaking creature that walks the earth.”
Star Swirl tapped the book. Well, he almost tapped it, his hoof stopping just short of actually touching the precious tome.
“And do you know what this is, lad?”
“A book?” Stasis conjectured.
“Book one, lad. Book one.” The old pony gestured at the surrounding room. “And here are dozens more. The library has them in the hundreds. The world has tens of thousands of books, lad, and you can read every. Single. One of them.” He paused and looked at the little changeling. “All you have to do is learn twenty-six little letters and how they go together.”
It seemed like, if reading were really as much fun as Star Swirl was making it out to be, everypony would be doing it all the time. Nopony would ever eat or play or sleep or anything, because they’d be too busy reading.
…Of course, ponies were stupid. They probably didn’t know what they had. Even his siblings…they were far smarter than ponies, for sure, but which of them knew the things in these books? Did even Mother? If Stasis could read, pretty soon he would know all there was to know.
He liked the thought of that. He liked it a lot.
Stasis thought. And thought. And thought.
“So….” He finally began, trying to keep his tone nonchalant. “If I let you teach me how to read during the evenings…then I’ll be able to understand what this book says without any help? And I can read anything I want, anytime I want?”
Star Swirl the Bearded smiled.
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Hm. Being turned old is worse than being turned into food and eaten? Ah, the priorities of youth!~
It's little bits like this that make me go from merely liking this story to absolutely loving it...
I'd recognize the Pack Rat's Code anywhere. Heh heh heh...
I really love where this is going, and that whole scene with the book was fantastic.
What the flying fuck!? This story is excellent! To think if I didn't decide to pick some updated story today at random I wouldn't have discovered this gem.
This is a travesty!
you make reading sound so amazing..
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Sable Tails approves this message.
Stasis is such a little brat, and I love it. The only thing that makes me wary, whenever I see an update, is how the tragedy tag is going to play out.
Either way I'll enjoy the ride.
Well, I was going to run away and frolic somewhere else on FiMFiction, but that author's note... (A statement slightly more true than it should be, sadly)
Unfortunately, when I do decide to comment on a story it's rarely because I have any useful criticism or advice to give. Instead, I merely describe how wonderful I think the story is and how there should be more of it. And today, like a terribly cheesy Valentine's day card, I shall describe to you your story's many virtues inarticulately and verbosely.
Okay, villain protagonist. The rest of FiMFiction still seems to be catching up to the idea with respect to changelings (Is Without a Hive the only other major one?), but I don't blame them. A good villain protagonist is very difficult; he or she must have nasty tendencies but cannot alienate the audience. You have pretty much nailed Stasis, particularly with his thoughts and imaginings (hasn't every kid wanted something like Stasisgrad?). In fact, I mentally have Stasis listed as a "good kid" even though there is absolutely no supporting evidence for such an assertion. He's a complete turd, and demonstrates it with nearly every interaction he has with other characters. But I just cannot dislike him. I'm certain this human tendency is why we have cats as "pets".
Excellent world building and exposition. It feels casual while being different. There are very few stories (that I've read) that deal with Star Swirl's time period as if it were like modern Equestria, and I rather like it. I'm also quite sure that the idea of changeling "Fathers" is unique; I'm more certain here because I read WAY too many changeling fics. And because you write really damn well, almost all of your exposition is neatly tucked inside relevant plot details instead of hideous fatty exposition tumors. Or maybe there are exposition tumors, but I didn't care when I read through them.
I guess as a final point I should reiterate: you write extremely well. In the same way that most people can ride bicycles but cannot fathom how super motocross works (just go with the metaphor), when I read this story I see what you've done but have difficulty figuring out how you've done it. I'm going to quit while I'm ahead (seriously, how do they survive long enough to get good?!), but your talent is fantastic.
Now I'm going to attempt a viewer rain dance, because about all this story needs is more viewers and more chapters!
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Ha! 'Inarticulately' my arse, and someone who can make two chapters of 'Stasis went to school, made trouble, got in trouble, and read a book' into a 22,000+ word epic can hardly criticize someone else for verbosity. Anyway, this little review delighted me so much that I'm going to respond to it with some verbosity of my own.
I am extremely fond of a good villain protagonist story, meaning one in which the protagonist is portrayed sympathetically without making his actions appear somehow justified. (For example, one in which the author shows sympathy for Nightmare Moon as she slaughters her subjects and tries to murder her sister but then shows no sympathy for her victims is not, generally, a good story. One in which Celestia is actually evil and Nightmare Moon tries to stop her without causing collateral damage is fine, but then, Nightmare Moon is no longer really a villain, is she?)
I suspect the reason you have trouble disliking Stasis despite his turdiness is because, first, he's just a child. Anyone who hates a six or possibly seven year child is himself a turd. Second, while there are definitely serious moments in the story, there are plenty of comedic ones as well. It's much harder to dislike a funny jerk, even if he is still a jerk. And finally, hopefully you and everyone else who reads this story will feel empathy for Stasis, even if you don't always (or rarely ever) approve of his actions. It is perfectly possible to care about someone as a person while still strongly objecting to the things they do.
I personally do not recall ever wanting to own my own brutal totalitarian state as a child, but then, I always was a strange one.
I'm very happy that someone, at least, appreciates my world-building. I was really concerned, when I first decided to publish this story (of which I had written about the first three chapters at the time), that I would be seeing many comments along the lines of 'this is not what Equestria would have looked like years ago and this is not how Star Swirl would have acted like and ect. ect. ect., you stupid person!' I'm quite pleased that, thus far at least, that has not been the case.
'Fathers' came about because, although certain insect species have queens, none that I know of have kings. The males are, as I understand it, relatively plentiful and individually unimportant. The idea of doing otherwise both fit into my story and just seemed cool.
I don't generally feel the inclination to just 'dump' exposition onto my readers, because that would be boring. Much as Stasis, I don't like boring things. There have been a few times, however, where I had to cut out large parts that I found revealed more of the future direction of the story than I thought wise. Hopefully most of my readers have already caught onto the fact that this is not a simple 'Stasis went to Trottingham, Stasis found he liked it there, Stasis stayed and lived happily ever after the end' kind of story; I have quite a bit of crap planned for the little guy, and I want the reader to get that impression without actually knowing what that crap is yet.
Of course, I'm very pleased that you think my writing is good. I put quite a lot of work into it - I think I've done at least four passes over every chapter thus far, and the difference in quality between my first draft and the final product is almost always a large one - and I'm glad to see that it's paying off. I would like to be a professional author some day, and having some natural talent in my chosen field is, as always, a plus.
Again, I appreciate your taking the time to critique my story, even if your critique didn't involve any actual criticism. Having no hope of ever making any actual monetary profit from this story, I'm pretty much running on mixture of my own love for the story, my desire to improve as a writer, and the energy of my readers. Thank you for your generous contribution to Sable Tails' pool of reader enthusiasm. (I would respond to each comment individually like this, but alas, I don't think anyone wants to wade through (eventually) hundreds of variations of 'thanks for taking the time to comment on my story' lol.)
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Ah, but you see, it was 22,000 words that never called attention to their length by outliving their welcome. The devil's in the details, and you provide a great many imaginative ones. This goes hand-in-hand with the world building, which is interesting enough on its own. Also, I actually tend to leave even longer comments than that previous one, so perhaps my initial claim of verbosity was premature.
As a "quick" side note, I've recently read/been reading two books that seem to provide two examples of excellent world building that go about it in entirely different ways: Hyperion by Dan Simmons and Book of the New Sun by Gene Wolfe (yeah, I'm on a sci-fi kick). Hyperion builds its world through demonstration: the plot is constructed in such a way that, although it seems impossible at first, we get a direct look at every major component of Hyperion's universe through a character's first hand experience. In fact, at the end of the first book I realized that it is secretly 75% exposition that's been cleverly hidden in a twisted version of the Canterbury tales, with characterization and real plot taking up the rest of the space. But it's okay; Hyperion was meant to be more about its universe than any individual character.
Book of the New Sun is entirely the opposite. There is only one point of view character (a rare first person epic) and we already know something about the ending in the first chapter. It is difficult to describe exactly how it is written, but basically it makes no attempt to explain what to us seems odd to us but is normal for the inhabitants of the setting. I should emphasize that nearly every paragraph contains at least once sentence you will have to think about to figure out what it really means. It is set some indeterminate (but immense) about of time in the future. There are no explanations given, but sufficient details are provided to (mostly) figure out what is going on if you're really paying attention (drink coffee before reading). In this way the story slowly reveals an incredibly detailed and complex setting without ever detracting from the story's plot and characterization. Among the details you must figure out yourself: the moon was terraformed, the sun is being consumed by a black hole, the "destriers" are NOT horses, they don't understand genetics, and they have an incomplete understanding of relativity. The main character also believes in magic (which, so far, doesn't exist) and has a somewhat medieval view of the world.
I nearly lost where I was going with this (beyond recommending both of them as examples and good reads, which I realize I didn't do until now), but I must mention that so far I actually think your world building is one of the strongest points of the story so far. You're utilizing Stasis as a means of describing your version of changelings through his thoughts and, through his ignorance, your version of pony culture and society without ever calling undue attention to it. That's what I consider talent.
Also, I now remember that there actually IS one type of insect that has kings: termites. <Wikipedia/google visit> They're bigger than other termites and live as long as the queen does (>20 years). It looks like the only eusocial insect where the males are more than disposable (interestingly, workers are a mix of male and female individuals and can replace the primary "royalty" if one dies, unlike bees or ants where reproductive individuals are specially prepared at/before birth).
Alright, rambling over, cheer leading outfit off. Oh, and that was an awesome reply to a middling comment. Intriguingly, while nothing of monetary value is gained or lost on FiMFiction, we are doing a good job of trading emotions around here with words. There's a little changeling in--
Okay, time to eat something and sleep before I get worse.
something tells me Star is knows more than he letting on or at least putting 2 and 2 together
Thank you for the story.
I am looking forward to see what happens next.
The whole final scene involving the book is nothing short of a masterpiece. I have been waiting for a story like this for ages!
This is the first of many chapter reviews because each chapter is so long and extensive that I'm probably going to have a to leave a review per chapter.
Name of Story: Prodity
Grammar score out of 10 (1 is grammar that needs to be worked upon as basic principles such as capitalization and spelling is an issue, and 10 is impeccable): 8
Pros (list three pros)
So far I really like Star Swirl's characterization and believe you have him spot down. He's cranky, but he's talented and not to mention just... Merlin-esque which is exactly what you expect of Star Swirl the Bearded. His speech, is funny, but that simply adds to his character and distinguishes him from the other ponies, which is good.
As for Stasis... I have mixed feelings about him, overall positive. He's a downright evil little bugger of a changeling, which is a nice difference form the other changeling adopted by pony stories. Moreover, his character is quite well built and you have done quite a bit of strong world-building of the changeling hive through his eyes and his reminiscing about Mother and his brothers and sisters works wonders for his character. Unfortunately though, while his character is well built, I don't like his character. He's not the type I would have personally chosen for a story like this simply because... well... if he's infiltrated Star Swirl and formed a relationship, I'm surprised he has lack of qualms about treating Star Swirl as almost a father figure and isn't really wanting to get back to the hive. Still, I do think you've done a very good job with him.
Another good thing about your story World-Building and OC characters... The world building of Trottingham and the changeling hive is excellent. We know quite well your perspective on changeling-pony relations as well as how Equestria is at this time.
Cons (list three cons)
Unfortunately, you have some rather problematic cons. The story's pace is horrlby slow. Seriously, I'm really really bored. I mean still interested in Stasis's journey, but bored. You go through so much detail, so much world-building that I get swallowed up by it... but don't understand the point of it. Which flows into my next con.
I don't see the point of the story yet. I can get it if you've set Stasis up for the first three or so chapters, but this is getting ridiculous especially with the huge length of these chapters. It's the fifth chapter and we still don't know where we are going with Stasis, neither do we know the conflict. The conflict hasn't slightly been hinted, because apparently, Stasis is so good at hiding he hasn't even risked being discovered (which I find rather odd since this guy is supposedly a young changeling). Essentially, while I like how you are setting up Stasis's relationships, you really really really need to get to the conflict of this story or add some excitement (DANGER), because as it stands I'm having difficulty reading this without being slightly bored.
Notes: Aside from those cons... this is a strong story, that is actually more akin to a chapter book/novel style as opposed to fanfic serial style. Its really spread out, built bit by bit, which allows for excellent world building and character development, but severely cuts down upon excitement and conflict development. I suggest trying to add some more conflict or danger earlier on... perhaps uncertainty for Stasis.
Enjoy your review! I will continue to be reviewing the next chapters
Ahhh yes, reading. The best thing.
*Alondro adds this to the very long and ever-growing column of reasons why changelings should be exterminated*
Well gee, these changelings aren't overpowered much. So a single one of these Super Bugs can slay a full-grown dragon with scales that can withstand lava and can chew diamond, and spells basically bounce off of unless they're babies like Spike. Might as well add in that one of them managed to slay Discord with a spork.
I could accept it if it was a teenage dragon. But an adult? That's pushing it.
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Well, if you go by what this is saying, a young prince is already very powerful, then a elder one more so. I also go by the system they seem to have in place of mating, it looks like the more powerful they are, more mates they get. So yea, he has got to be pretty powerful.
Also, if he was really over powered like you seem to say he is, then he should have been able to kill it without needing to take it be surprise and not take any damage while doing so. Alas, it is not so, for you see he needed to catch it off guard in order to kill it: and he lost both of his rear legs in the process.
Damn. I get the sense that Stasis is going to be basically the most powerful changeling ever by the end of this, for the simple fact of his having spent some time in a pony community and learning pony ways, as well as learning some magic from one of ponykind's most powerful magicians ever.
Stasis so far is a little mature for his age relative to what human kids would be like, but as I've said before, he's still very much a rambunctious brat leaning slightly primal evil, and you've managed to capture his mindset and thoughts absolutely perfect.
Somehow I expect the changelings will have a copy of Fang's first edition book, even though the dragon would be highly unlikely to give one to a race that is his mortal enemy. More likely they'll have stolen it off of another race.