Despite living in the changeling's homeland, young Carmine has never seen one in her life. She decides that she must meet a changeling, even if it's the last thing she ever does.
A hundred years ago, a young mare's great-grandfather was stolen from Equestria during the royal wedding of Shining Armour, and Princess Cadance to live out the rest of his days as a slave. Now after all this time, the changeling homeland is now her family's home, and they are slaves just the same.
Carmine Bolton, doesn't feel like a slave, however. She has never seen a changeling in her entire life. So when a travelling trader comes to town claiming to have met one once. She decides that she has to see for herself.
She must meet a changeling, even if it's the last thing she ever does.
Or perhaps it was very early in the morning. She wasn’t sure.
Carmine Bolton sat up and looked around her bedroom. Her eyes fell upon the mirror across from her. She cocked her head to the side, as the reflection looked back at her. The mirror was a new addition to her bedroom, she had traded two old books for it the last time a Trader had stopped by the village.
She smiled at her reflection, her pink eyes looking back at her; her crimson coat stood out plainly in the darkness of the moonlight. She brushed a strand of her carmine mane out of her eyes, and rose from her bed. It was from her mane that she took her name.
She quietly crawled from bed, and fumbled with a box of matches that rested on the bedside table, she frowned at the box, disappointed that it was empty. She was out of matches. She would need to find something to Trade for more. Sea shells were popular with Traders from the inland villages, perhaps there would be a few that had washed up on the shore.
Carmine went over to the window, gently unlatching it and looked up at the night’s sky. The moon was high in the sky. It was very early morning. Perhaps one or two? It was hard to tell. Light from the moon was not as consistent with light from the sun. She smiled up at the moon. It was a full moon, which meant that Traders would be arriving in the morning. She had always looked forward to Trade time. There was always something new to find from one of the villages further inland, or further down the coast.
Carmine sighed and leaned back, setting her forehooves on the floor, and left her bedroom in a brisk trot, grabbing her saddlebag that laid by the door and slipping it onto her haunches. She treaded quietly, taking care not to step on a loose floorboard as she went outside for a walk. She had to take care not to disturb her father, who slept quietly in the other bedroom.
Outside. Carmine found herself looking around the village square. It was a simple village, houses made of stone, with timbered supports and thatched roofs. Simple homes for a simple people.
Carmine gently walked along the cobblestone streets of the village, taking a quiet lap around the square before walking down to the shore line. She loved the quiet nights, where if you listened just hard enough, you could hear the shimmering of starlight among the rolling waves. She passed the palisade wall of the village’s limit, and stepped onto the sandy shore. Feeling the grains beneath her hooves and smiled.
This land was so beautiful, so peaceful. It was hard to remember that it did not belong to them. Not truly.
This was the Changeling Regime. The changelings were the masters of this land. She wasn’t sure exactly how long this village had been here, or exactly how long her family had resided in the Regime, even. According to her father, his father’s father had been taken at a wedding in a far off land called Equestria a hundred years ago. How much truth there was to this, no one was quite sure.
She had asked her father why her ancestor had been taken.
'As a slave,' he’d told her.
She’d been quite young when he'd told her that. But even then, as a young filly of seven, she knew that it didn't add up. If they we're slaves, they were slaves not being used. In her fourteen years, Carmine had never even seen a changeling.
It simply did not make sense. If they were slaves, why were they not being put to work by their masters? Why were they not building cities or tending the land for them? She knew that there was more to it, but what? That she could not say. All she knew was they were left to their own devices. She had to wonder if their masters even noticed their existence.
She spotted a sand dollar lying on the beach and smiled at her good fortune. She could attend Trade with this. She picked it up, and placed it in her saddlebag.
Her mind fell back to changelings. Their masters seemed content to let them live out their lives. They didn't even care if someone left. Few did though, there was really nowhere to go besides other villages up the coast, or inland.
The Changeling Regime was a large island; a Trader had once told her it was some four thousand kilometres across. Some had left the island by building boats, and trying to sail away, but there wasn't anywhere to go, endless ocean was all there was for thousands of kilometres. Besides, this was home.
Carmine thought about Equestria, and had to wonder if she'd even be accepted there, she knew that changelings were generally not well liked. (Second hoof information, after all, she'd never even seen one to know what they were like.) She could only figure that Equestrians would constantly accuse her of being a spy.
She spotted the top of a bivalve shell, smiling at her good fortune. She would be getting good Trades from these. She quickly deposited it in her bag and walked further up the beach.
She would very much like to see a changeling. If only to prove that her supposed captors were real. Though she supposed it would change little. Slave or not, this was home.
Her father was the village blacksmith, and he had made her his apprentice, so that she would eventually replace him. She had gotten to be fairly good at the art. You had to be to succeed as a blacksmith, thanks to the poor quality iron she had to work with. She had gotten pretty good at making simple tools, hatchets, knives, the like.
She had made a sword once. The iron was too weak to hold its shape, and had shattered under its own weight. Coal was scarcer still, so she couldn’t improve the metal by making steel. She had managed to make a spearhead out of the remains of the sword for Grendel, the village protector, though. It had been quite disappointing, but that was just the fact that the iron ore found in the Regime just had too many impurities.
‘What are you doing out here young Bolton?’ a gruff voice asked from behind her.
Carmine whirled around, and found herself face to face with a stern looking gryphon. Brown fur with grey head feathers, and a scar under his left eye.
‘Oh, Grendel, you startled me,’ she said. She was glad it was only the protector.
He looked annoyed. ‘Answer my question. A young mare has no right being out so late.’
‘I'm fairly sure its early,’ Carmine said innocently.
Grendel was not amused.
He meant well, there were few risks to be had around the village, few things truly dangerous. Wild animals were Grendel’s main concern. Wild boar was usually the threat he had in mind.
‘I’m looking for sea shells for Trade,’ she admitted.
Grendel sighed and opened his brown leather waistcoat, pulling out a small silver pocket timepiece, ‘At two o’clock in the morning?’
‘I have to go out early! Or Fisher will get them all!’ she cried out.
Grendel sighed. ‘Next time, tell me when you plan to wander after dark. Lest you get run through by a spear on accident.’
‘Protector, your eyes are sharp, you'd know who it was instantly!’ she protested.
The gryphon sighed and nodded. ‘Don’t stay out too long.’
Carmine smiled warmly at him. ‘I won’t, sir. You have my promise,’ she said simply.
The gryphon gave her a nod, before turning back, walking into the village.
Carmine chuckled. She knew how to turn on the charm when she needed to. Her eyes turned downwards, discovering a large conch shell. She smiled brightly at it, picking it up and quickly depositing it in the bag. It was such a fine specimen, so large and ornate, it would fetch her many things at Trade.
Carmine was satisfied with what she’d found, and turned back for home. She hoped to catch a few hours more sleep, for tomorrow morning it would be time for Trade.
…
She awoke in the morning to the sound of the village bell. One chime, two chimes, three chimes. Three meant that Trade had begun.
Carmine leapt from her bed, grabbing her bag and dashing out the door. She looked on in awe as a large crowd formed around the square. The entire village always turned out for Trade.
In the centre of the square, was a set of three large wagons filled to the brim with treasure! She fought herself to the front of the crowd and watched as the caravan master began to speak.
He was a silver coated earth pony stallion with a matching short grey mane and tail. With piercing green eyes that almost seemed to glow in the light of the morning. She recognised this Trader, he’d been here many times before. Ryswell, his name was Ryswell, and he was the master of Trade.
‘Good people of the coast!’ Ryswell said, clearing his throat as the village fell quiet. ‘You all know me, I am Ryswell, the Master of Trade! I am here for the same reason I am always here; it is time again for Trade! I now declare Trade open!’
The sound of jubilation filled the air as the village surged forward, inspecting the goods brought by the caravan, the sounds of voices rang throughout the village streets as they haggled with Ryswell and his fellow Traders for goods.
Carmine took a step up to one of the caravans and began to look through it, looking for anything useful. No matches were to be found, but that didn’t matter much at this point. Trade had just begun, someone was sure to swap a box of matches for something later, which would allow Carmine to swap one of her seashells for them.
‘See anything you like?’ a voice asked of her.
Carmine looked over and saw Ryswell looking down at her. The stallion was a good head taller than the young mare. She smiled up at him. ‘Still browsing, but I’m sure to find something before Trade’s end.’
‘Indeed,’ he said and glanced up at the bartering crowd. ‘Always such a happy time, Trade.’
Carmine nodded her head as she looked out to the crowd. They were a mixed village, almost all of them were. A number of earth ponies, a few pegasi, rare still were unicorns, but there were other races as well. Gryphons were possibly the largest minority in the village, numbering twelve. Another six were members of a race of dire wolf like creatures, thick coated dogs called Schäferhund, from a land which Carmine had trouble pronouncing the name of. Oster-something-or-other.
Rarer still, were two of the oddest creatures she had ever seen in her entire life, were several fat bear like creatures, with black and white fur, and dark beady eyes. They were the Mao Xiong, who had lived on an island called Kowloon before being resettled here.
Ryswell looked back over to Carmine, studying her closely. Carmine blushed as she realised he was giving her so much attention and looked back. ‘And aren’t you such a lovely maiden miss—?’
‘Bolton,’ she said. ‘Carmine Bolton, apprentice blacksmith!’ she added proudly.
Ryswell gave her a chuckle and a nod. ‘And talented I am sure, I’m impressed already with such a lovely maiden—Still a maiden, I assume?’ he asked.
Carmine blushed slightly darker, which her scarlet mane fortunately hid the visible signs for. She nodded her head in affirmation.
Ryswell smiled warmly. ‘Excellent, guard that well. It could make for an excellent Trade when you’re a bit older,’ he said with a suggestive smile.
‘I will sir,’ she said with a nod, her cheeks were hot with embarrassment.
Ryswell winked at her and he turned his head back towards the growing festivities.
Trade was always such a happy time. Carmine knew she was always the happiest at Trade time. There was always so much positive energy flowing through the crowd as they bartered and bickered over their desired goods, you just couldn’t help but have a good time.
By the end of the day, Carmine had finally been able to find matches, and had traded her large conch shell for several books.
It was Grendel, the protector, that seemed to luck out on his Trade the most, though.
Ryswell had lugged out a rather large item, what looked like a large metal tube that the gryphon hefted on his shoulder.
‘I believe they called this particular item a Pak,’ Ryswell proclaimed. ‘Sort of a large cannon, made a lot of noise and fired a shot that would explode on contact. It is yours, protector, my gift to you,’ the earth pony said with a bow.
Carmine was impressed with the Pak as she smiled at Grendel. She was sure the old gryphon was going to scare her with it at some point.
Her father’s house played host to Ryswell and his company of traders that evening. Traders were well respected among the slave villages, and it was their duty to look after them when they were in town. All twelve of Ryswell’s company would take to sleeping on the floor in Carmine’s bedroom. Her father had offered them the beds, but Ryswell refused him. Politely thanking the old blacksmith for his offer, but their own bedrolls on a wood floor was already more comfortable than what they were used to.
Carmine sat quietly on the sofa in the main room of the house, reading one of her new books. The Earth Pony Way by Oberlander Cromwell.
She could tell it was quite old, just by the language that was used in the words. It was a novel (and she suspected, secretly a political treatise) about a cabal of Earth Ponies overthrowing the unicorn government in old Canterlot, discarding magic, for science and reason. It was quite an interesting read, even though it was a bit difficult to understand. She would have to make a note to ask Ryswell where they’d gotten it.
Almost on cue, Ryswell exited from her bedroom where he’d been prepping his company’s sleeping arrangements. He smiled at her and approached the sofa. ‘May I sit with you? Miss Bolton?’ he asked.
She nodded her head and scooted over to make room for him. He gingerly sat down on the sofa and gave her a surprised look. ‘This is quite comfortable,’ he said.
‘It is! My father traded a full set of steel woodworking tools for it with our village’s artisan, Corlyse Davenport. She built it herself using “old family secrets”, or so she said,’ she added with a chuckle. ‘I believe it.’
‘As do I,’ Ryswell said with a nod.
Carmine placed the cloth bookmarker on her page, and gently closed the book. ‘Sir, do you know anything about this book?’ she asked, holding it aloft. ‘More specifically, where it came from?’
He glanced at the book, studying it for a few moments. He put his hoof on his chin and tapped. ‘If I am not mistaken, there was once a watertight box filled with books that washed up on shore one day. It’s usually where new items for Trade come from. Things that spill over into the ocean and wash up here. It all comes here eventually and—’ he stopped and looked closer at it, having caught the name of the author on the spine, he gave her a warm smile. ‘Ahh, that one? No, my apologies my lady, I know exactly where that one came from.’
Carmine’s smile widened. ‘Where?’ she asked.
‘That particular book was stolen from the private library of the Princess Celestia of Equestria, roughly one hundred years ago, during the changeling’s raid on Canterlot,’ Ryswell said with a twinkle in his eyes.
Carmine looked on him in awe. ‘How do you know that?’
‘Well, the one who traded it to me told me,’ he said simply.
Carmine moved closer to him. ‘Who gave it to you?’ she asked.
‘Well, he doesn’t exactly have a name—"he" isn’t the right word either. It was an it,’ he said. ‘And it was a changeling.’
Carmine’s eyes widened. ‘You—you’ve seen a changeling?’ she asked in an almost gasped response.
‘Of course, this is the Changeling Regime is it not? You haven’t seen—’ Ryswell paused, and then offered her a sheepish smile. ‘Apologies, my lady. I often forget that the village folk are not as well travelled as I.’
Carmine smiled back and nodded in understanding. ‘No need to apologise Sir; but it is true, I have never seen one,’ she admitted.
‘A pity, they are a sight to behold. I have been all over the regime, seen all sorts of wonders. I have been to the capital, even. A wondrous stone castle manually carved thousands of years ago!’ he said brightly.
Thoughts began to race through Carmine’s mind, she remembered back to early this morning, her thoughts about changelings, her desire to see one. ‘Sir? On your route for Trade, will you be seeing any changelings?’
‘Perhaps,’ he said without commitment. He seemed to be almost expecting the question. Perhaps was enough for her.
‘Would you—would you take me with you?’ she asked.
‘Take you on as a member of my company? As a Trader?’ he asked back.
Carmine nodded.
A wry smile formed on Ryswell’s face. ‘I don’t know; can you do anything useful?’ he asked.
Carmine paused; she was about to say that she was an apprentice blacksmith, but something told her that wasn’t what he was looking for. After all, Ryswell already knew that. He must be looking for something else. She probed her mind for something, anything that would be of use to him on their trek.
‘I know the stars,’ she said finally. Her great-grandfather had been the Royal Astronomer in Canterlot prior to him being taken as a slave, and he had passed that information down to his son, who had passed it to her father, who had passed it to her.
‘As do we all,’ Ryswell said, looking unimpressed.
Carmine's ears drooped. Aside from blacksmithing, that was pretty much all she had to offer.
Ryswell’s smile returned. ‘Though, it can’t hurt to have another pair of eyes, alright Miss Bolton. I accept, pending your father’s permission, of course.’
Her smile shown brighter than the light of a full moon. She realised that Ryswell had just been teasing her. He’d never intended to say no. She threw her forelegs around him in a tight hug. ‘Oh thank you sir! Thank you!’ she said. This was the happiest she’d been in the longest time.
Ryswell hugged her back, holding her loosely and gently stroking her mane. ‘I just hope you’re prepared to do a lot of walking, and a lot of sleeping on hard ground,’ he added with a chuckle.
‘I’ll manage,’ she said with a smile, and planted a friendly kiss on each of Ryswell’s cheeks, before getting up to go ask her father’s permission.
‘That I think you will,’ Ryswell said quietly to himself, smiling at his own good fortune.
…
Carmine slipped quietly into her father’s workshop on the side of the house. He was under one of the Trader’s wagons, inspecting the metal framing for wear. Carmine smiled at her father as she watched him work for a bit.
Like her, Pershing Bolton was an earth pony. He was brown in coat; with the same carmine mane he would pass to his daughter.
‘Father?’ she asked.
Pershing attempted to sit up, only to bang his head on the underside of the wagon. ‘Ow!’ he cried out as he pulled himself out, gently rubbing his forehead with a hoof. Carmine looked mortified.
‘Oh father! I’m so sorry!’ she said as she knelt down next to him.
He gave her a gentle smile, his eyes glistening in the soft light from the forge in the corner of the workshop. ‘I’m alright, is something I can do for you, my darling?’ he asked.
Her eyes lit up and she smiled. ‘Father, I seek your permission to join the Traders on their expedition,’ she said.
Pershing blinked at her. ‘Join the Traders? Why?’ he asked.
Carmine bit her lip, unsure of how to put it to her father. She couldn’t think of a good way to really explain it to him, so she just blurted it out. ‘I want to see a changeling, Father. We’ve never seen one! Not one person in this village. Ryswell has, and he’s going to take me where they are!’
Pershing frowned at her. ‘The wilderness is dangerous, Carmine, wild animals roam the Regime. You could get seriously hurt! Even killed if you’re not careful!’
Carmine paused to consider his words, but remained firm. ‘Father, please, let me go. I’ll be careful, and Ryswell won’t let harm come to me—’
‘If he can prevent it,’ her father interrupted. ‘There is simply no guarantee that he can.’
‘Father—’
‘Explain to me why, Carmine,’ he interrupted again. ‘You say you want to see a changeling, but you want more than just the sake of seeing one. Why do you want to?’
Carmine paused, turning the question over in her head, before finally giving an answer. ‘I have a question to ask,’ she answered finally.
Pershing frowned. He knew exactly what she was referring to. ‘Your mind is set on this then?’ he asked her.
‘I must do this father, please, give me your blessing. I have to know!’ she said, getting on her knees and pleading with him.
Pershing sighed and nodded his head, knowing full well that his daughter had made up her mind, there was to be no dissuading her. ‘Very well, Carmine. I give you my permission to join the traders.’
Carmine could hardly sleep that night, her mind was full of excitement and wonder. In the morning she would be leaving with Ryswell and his company towards one of the other villages on the coast. She'd packed several days of food to take with her, and was curious to discover that Ryswell and his company packed no food to take with them.
She was surprised by this, but Ryswell had explained that they lived off the land on their treks, as was tradition. He promised not to tease her too much about this though.
In the morning, the traders loaded up their wagons with all the new goods they acquired from yesterday's Trade. Carmine smiled as she looked over the haul. Many an item would make for excellent trades.
She took her place beside Ryswell at the head of their group. He smiled and gently ruffled her mane. 'Such a lovely colour,' he commented.
Carmine blushed. 'Thank you sir,' she said. She had to admit, she wasn't used to all the admiration and attention that the traders gave her, but she liked it.
Ryswell winked and glanced over his shoulder to a unicorn stallion behind him. 'Ready?' He asked.
The unicorn, a dark grey coated stallion with a black mane and tail, sporting soft amber eyes nodded in affirmation. He had introduced himself to Carmine last night as Martel. 'We are ready sir,' he reported.
Ryswell smiled at him, and then waved for the troop to move out. They began to walk down the cobblestone streets and out of the village, following the path to their next destination.
Cobblestone roads were scattered here and there throughout the Regime. Ryswell had declared that they would be keeping to them for most of the way. Carmine suspected that he had done this for her benefit more than anything else. She was young, and lively, but was not used to the long distance walking that would be required of them. Going over land was challenging under any circumstance. Much less with a young mare unused to such treks.
Carmine was always impressed with the beauty of the wilderness. It was so quiet, so peaceful. There was a reason for this, of course. The Changeling Regime was visually stunning, but that was all it had.
The Regime was what many others would call resource poor. It had very little iron, almost no coal, and scant of anything else. What it did have, though, was trees, and stone, but there was only so much you could do with trees and stone. It was why Trade time was so important. Even broken things had value, and could be traded for new things. Anything that could be repaired would be, and if it wasn't, it would be broken down for scrap. The second cart in their baggage train was filled with such pieces of broken junk. It probably wouldn't be much use at the next coastal village, but you never knew. If not, one of the inland villages would find a use for some of the junk.
Carmine was impressed with the troop. They all did what they were supposed to do without complaint, without any physical signs of fatigue. Even though they had not gotten more than three hours of sleep last night, they were all just as lively as she was.
Carmine was a morning person. She was always refreshed and energised in the mornings, today had been no different, but she had been shocked to see how much energy the rest of the troop had.
'Disciplined stallions!' Ryswell had proclaimed. 'Only the most disciplined in mind and body can make it as a Trader.'
Carmine blushed, it was at that moment she noticed that she was the only mare of their company.
'I'm just glad I have thirteen strong stallions to protect me,' she said sheepishly.
All of them grinned and winked suggestively.
'It has been a long time since any of us has been around a mare,' Ryswell admitted. 'You brighten our morale by joining us, Miss Bolton.'
'You can call me Carmine,' she said.
'As you wish my lady,' he said with a bow, and a teasing smile. Clearly, another reason for Ryswell to bring her along was to have a bit of fun at her expense.
She didn't mind, it was all in good fun. Despite some of the looks the other stallions were giving her; she knew she had nothing to fear. Most of them were fairly shy. Ryswell and Martel were the chattiest. Martel had moved up to walk beside her, smiling warmly at her.
'So, Miss Bolton,' Martel said as he approached.
'Please, call me Carmine,' she said with a smile.
'So, Miss Carmine, you are still a maiden? Yes?' Martel asked.
She blushed and nodded her head. 'I am, sir, still pure and with virtue.'
'Excellent,' he said with a bright glow in his amber eyes. 'There's a song about the perfect mare, a maiden such as you—' Martel said, cutting himself off. He began to sing.
'I loved a maid as fair as summer with sunlight in her hair,' He sung, gently rubbing his hoof against her cheek.
'I loved a maid as red as autumn, with sunset in her hair,' he added, running his hoof through her mane.
'I loved a maid as white as winter with moonglow in her hair,' he sung, and then paused for a few moments. He spotted a wild rose bush growing on the path beside them. He grinned, plucking one and placing it behind her ear.
'I loved a maid as sweet as spring, with flowers in her hair.'
Carmine couldn't help but smile, and gave him a little curtsey. 'I did not know I travelled with a bard of such skill, Sir,' she said playfully.
'Oh we're full of surprises,' Ryswell added with a cheeky grin. 'We all know how to put on a good show when the time is right.'
Carmine nodded her head in agreement. 'That has been more than proven today.'
Evening came soon after, and they settled down for the night. None of the stallions showed any sign of fatigue. If anything they seemed to be energised with her presence. The comforts of travelling with a mare were astounding, it seemed.
They had stopped for her benefit, which she was more than glad for. She had never walked for so long in her life. Her hooves ached and her muscles were stiff. She was glad to finally have a chance to rest. She thought that she'd been doing a good job at hiding her exhaustion, but the Traders must have seen through it. She hadn't complained, and they hadn't judged her.
They all knew that she would build up her endurance and would soon not be an issue. She was an earth pony, after all.
They settled down in a little clearing among the trees, just off the main path. They’d stay the night here. Two of the stallions piled stones around in a ring to make a fire pit. The group laid out their bedrolls with seven on the two sides of the fire pit. Carmine set her own bedroll down between Ryswell and Martel, much to the approval of them, and the envy of the others.
One of the other ponies, an earth pony called Flint, gathered wood and got a fire going, and they all huddled around it to keep warm. Carmine enjoyed the heat from the fire. It reminded her of her father's workshop, and the warmth that radiated from the forge.
Ryswell gently patted her back. 'You did well today. We often walk until late into the night as well, but I think you've had enough for your first day on the trail,' he said.
Carmine nodded. 'I didn't want to say anything, but—I'm beat!' She said with a chuckle and laid down on her stomach. 'I'm not certain if I could walk another step at this point.'
Ryswell chuckled, 'You'll be fine tomorrow Miss Bolton—'
'Carmine,' she reminded.
'Miss Carmine, rest will do you good. We'll trade off watch for tonight, and let you sleep through the night. You can join in the watch tomorrow,' Ryswell offered.
She nodded her head in agreement.
Martel leaned over from her opposite side. 'It's going to be cold tonight when the fire dies down. Feel free to cuddle up if you get cold,' he offered.
'I'll take care to remember that sir,' she said with a wink. She laid down flat, closed her eyes, and fell asleep immediately.
Carmine found herself standing in the village square, It late into the night. It looked as if it was exactly the same as it was when she left, but it felt different somehow. She wanted to move around, to explore the village. Was she homesick already? Maybe.
She couldn’t move. She couldn’t turn her head even. It was as if some invisible force was forcing her to look on. Staring at a simple looking house before her.
In the light of the full moon, she saw a figure moving, shambling slowly towards her. A cloaked figure almost glided over the cobblestone streets, making no noise as it walked.
No, walked wasn’t the right word. The figure’s legs were not moving; it was simply gliding over the surface scant millimetres off the ground.
That was when she noticed, that in one outstretched foreleg, the figure was holding a wrapped bundle. She wanted to scream, cry out for help from anyone who listened, but she could not make a sound. She was screaming in her mind, calling out for anyone to help her. Ryswell the kind Trade master, Martel the bard, even Flint the fire maker she would accept.
But she could make no noise. She wasn’t sure why she felt so much danger from this creature, it had demonstrated no intent of any kind; it just radiated fear from it. It was so unnatural in the way it moved, in only a way that a creature of dream could.
The cloaked figure stopped, and rotated a sharp ninety degrees. It was still hovering just above the ground, but it was no longer moving towards her. She felt relief, knowing that momentarily, at least, she was out of danger from the shambling figure.
Or she did until she discovered why it had done so. The figure approached the door of the house in her field of view, and set the bundle on the doorstep. She could feel her eyes widen in panic. No, don’t!
Her demand fell on deaf ears. The figure reached up to the door and knocked on it. It knocked four times. Slowly, deliberately. Thump! Thump! Thump! Thump!
Panic began to set in in Carmine. She knew what was happening. She tried to call out; tried to get the figure’s attention. She wanted it to stop!
The door to the house opened with a blinding flash of light, and she screamed in absolute terror.
…
Carmine found herself sitting up. Drenched in cold sweat. The Traders were all to their hooves, scanning around the clearing for any threats to their person. Carmine realised that she must have screamed out loud, and woke them.
She was breathing heavily, and for a moment she didn’t really know why. Then she remembered. It was the nightmare she’d just experienced. She frowned at the others, as they all looked at her. Some of them even looked annoyed they'd been awoken by nothing. She must have looked to them as a jumpy filly who was afraid of the dark.
Carmine bit her lip as Martel knelt down beside her. ‘Are you alright?’ he asked.
‘I—’ she interrupted herself, opening and closing her mouth a few times. She tried to find an explanation, but none could come to her that didn't sound absolutely ridiculous.
Martel shook his head, and gave her a hug. She hugged him back tightly. ‘It was just a nightmare,’ she said.
She noticed Ryswell walking towards them, with a pained expression on his face, and a slight limp.
Her eyes went wide. ‘Ryswell! What happened to you?!’ she asked.
Ryswell blushed and rubbed the back of his head, and his muzzle scrunched up. ‘I took a little tumble is all. I was out scouting and I heard you scream; I ran back here to see what was going on; but I tripped on a root and took a little tumble,’ he admitted.
She realised in that instant something was wrong. Ryswell was lying.
She was far too polite to call him out on it, not in front of everyone—but why did he lie? What reason could he have to lie to her and his closest friends? She thought about it for a few moments and wondered if he had been doing something he thought she might disapprove of.
She put the thought out of her mind. Now was not the time to accuse Ryswell of anything.
The other members of their troop had settled back down on their bedrolls. Carmine felt guilty for waking them, she wanted to say something; anything to let them know that they had not made a mistake in taking a scared little filly on their adventure.
She had nothing to say, though. No words would come to her that made any sense. So she just laid down quietly and tried to go back to sleep.
…
Morning could not come soon enough, and when she woke, she found both Ryswell and Martel standing guard over her. She smiled warmly at the two stallions and sat up. ‘Good morning,’ she said.
‘Good morning,’ they said in unison back to her.
‘You had a rough night Carmine,’ Ryswell added.
She nodded her head. Though she wasn’t sure why at this point. She could scarcely remember the dream’s details anymore. Only that it had filled her with absolute terror. ‘I don’t recall the dream,’ she said finally.
‘That may be a good thing in this regard,’ Martel said. ‘Considering you woke up screaming.’
She shivered and nodded her head, before quietly rising to her hooves and rolling up her bedroll, placing it in her saddlebags without another word. She wasn’t really in the mood to chat with the others right now. They seemed to catch on quick and gave her the needed space.
It was awfully cold out. It was early October, the beginning of spring in the Regime. The October rains were sure to be on them soon. She looked up at dark clouds overhead. She knew full well what they meant, both in the literal, and figurative senses.
It made her long for home. She’d only left yesterday, but it felt as if it had been much longer. She had never been away from home before on her own, at least not with practical strangers. She would love nothing more than to curl up in the corner of her father’s workshop and watch him work while the heat from the forge draped over her like a warm blanket.
She shook her head, discarding these thoughts of going home. It was hardly as if she was going to stay away forever. She would be returning home to her father at the conclusion of the Trade.
After she had met her changeling.
She thought about the changelings for a good long while. She had so many things she wanted to know from them. It was generally thought (despite there being no proof, no one from her village had ever seen a changeling after all.) that the changelings knew about every little thing that happened in their realm. They would have the answers she sought. She could feel it in her bones.
Ryswell fell into step alongside her, he noticed her brooding. ‘What are you thinking about, Miss Carmine?’ he asked.
She looked up, having barely registered the question. ‘What?’ she asked, looking at him and blinking.
‘What is on your mind,’ he asked again.
Carmine knew that she wasn’t going to get her way out of this. ‘I—I suppose you want the full story?’ she asked.
Ryswell nodded his head.
Carmine sighed, and looked away, back towards the tree line of the forest that lined the cobblestone road. ‘I never knew my mother,’ she admitted.
‘In truth, neither did my father, he met her during the celebration of the Winter Solstice fifteen Junes ago, and after that night she vanished.
‘Then the next year, on the night of the June Solstice, she reappeared just long enough to deposit me on my father’s doorstep in our village. My father told me how clearly he could remember that day. A slow knock on the door. It knocked four times, and when he got to the door, there I was. Wrapped up in a little bundle no more than a few weeks old. My mother dropped me on his doorstep like a sack of flour, and vanished without a trace,’ she finished, she had noticed that she began to cry, tears streaming down her cheeks.
Ryswell frowned. Their caravan had come to a halt as young Carmine had told the story. he put his hoof on her cheek and turned her head to look at him. ‘I am so sorry to hear that,’ he said.
‘Thank you, Ryswell,’ she said and wiped the tears from her eyes. ‘So I think that you can understand why I want to meet a changeling. I don’t know how, but I know that the Changeling Queen knows—or at the very least—can find out what became of my mother. I have a question to ask her, you see.’
‘And what is that?’ Ryswell asked, cocking his head to the side.
The talk seemed to have cleared the air between them.
The rest of the Traders now seemed to accept her, now that they understood what was going on inside her. For that, Carmine was glad.
She took a look up at the sky. The black clouds of imminent rain were overhead.
Martel reached over and placed a wide brimmed hat on her head, something that the kangaroos of South Island called a ‘giggle.’ He smiled at her and winked. ‘You’ll be glad you have that in a moment,’ he said.
It began to rain.
The other traders barely seemed to notice, merely pulling their own giggle hats out of their bags and slipping them on with a single motion.
‘Well, thank the Queen for kangaroos right?’ she asked with a chuckle.
‘They have their uses,’ Ryswell agreed with a nod.
It rained for about an hour before letting up. She was glad they were travelling on cobblestone; it was one of the few materials that hooves could grip to when wet. She was glad that she had packed food, because she was hungry now. She knew the traders preferred to live off the land, but she had to wonder how they did it, because she had not seen anything appetising during their trek. Of course, she figured that she just didn’t know how to look.
She opened her saddlebag and took out a small ball of rice wrapped in a small sheet of edible seaweed that had been made for her by Li Bao, her village’s mao xiong fisherman. He had made a few for her when she had announced that she was going away. A familiar taste of home was a great way to lift her spirits.
She realised as she finished her rice ball, that she had not seen the members of her party stop to eat either. Now, she figured was a good time to figure out how exactly they lived.
‘Ryswell?’ she asked.
Ryswell looked over and offered her a smile. ‘Yes? Miss Carmine?’
‘You told me that you all lived off the land when you travelled. How exactly do you do that?’ she asked.
‘Well, we usually have one of the company go out and find us something to eat when we stop to rest, but I see no reason why we can’t show you now,’ he said brightly, and signalled for the troop to stop.
Carmine walked over to him as he waved her to come off the road. They walked into the trees for a few moments before coming to a clearing. Ryswell smiled and showed her what he’d found. There were two patches of white mushrooms growing out of the ground. Ryswell trotted up to the patches, and picked one from each. He came back over and sat down holding one of each up in his forehooves.
‘Tell me, what is the difference between these two mushrooms?’ he asked.
Carmine studied the fungus for a few moments trying to discern any difference she could from them. ‘They look the same to me,’ she finally reported after a few moments of not coming up with anything.
‘Yes, I imagine they do,’ Ryswell said with a grin. He held up the mushroom in his left hoof. ‘This one is one we call the button mushroom. It is perfectly safe to eat, and is quite delicious I might add,’ he said, and then set it down, and held up the mushroom in his right hoof.
‘This one, however, will kill you minutes after you’ve eaten it,’ he said simply, and then tossed the poisonous one over his shoulder, and picked the safe one back up and took a bite out of it. ‘Do you understand?’
Carmine blinked at him. She wasn’t sure. He had pointed out two similar looking mushrooms, and they were different, but the way he had asked seemed to indicate that he had some hidden meaning.
‘No,’ she said finally.
Ryswell smiled. ‘The non-poisonous mushroom looks just like the poisonous one, yes?’ he asked.
She nodded her head.
‘But why does it?’
‘I—don’t know,’ she admitted.
‘The normal mushroom has adapted to resemble the poisonous one, it’s disguised as a poisonous mushroom to prevent it from being eaten by animals. Animals know the poisoned one by sight, they steer clear of it. As a consequence, they don’t eat the normal one. The normal one remains safe by disguising itself,’ he said with a bright smile.
Carmine stopped to think about what he was saying. She got the feeling they weren’t talking about mushrooms anymore.
‘Ryswell!’ Martel’s voice called out. Ryswell dropped the half eaten mushroom and quickly trotted back to the rest of the group.
Carmine followed behind him closely as they got back to the road. Martel was looking up at the sky with a pair of binocular goggles over his eyes, adjusting the click wheels on the lenses as he looked.
‘What is it?’ he asked, cocking his head to the side.
Martel pulled the goggles off his eyes and handed them to the troop master. ‘Better to have a look for yourself.’
Ryswell frowned and took them, looking up at the sky and adjusting the click wheels on the binocular goggles to have a better look. He took them off and slipped the goggles in his bag. ‘We need to get off the road, now.’
Carmine was confused, she stood completely befuddled as the troop rolled the carts off the road, and into the tree line.
‘I don’t understand, Ryswell what is going on?’ she asked.
‘Danger in the sky; how is your eyesight?’ he asked.
She blinked, not sure why he was asking. ‘Good enough,’ she said simply.
That didn’t seem to help him, but he tugged at her leg anyway. ‘Come with me, I will need your help.’
Carmine nodded her head and went with him. The pair galloped through trees opposite the road, heading deeper inland, before coming to a clearing at the foot of an uncharacteristically tall hill. Carmine looked at it, her eyes following a trail that winded up the hill some two hundred metres tall.
Ryswell stopped and opened his bag, taking out the binocular goggles and giving them over to her. She slipped them over her eyes and adjusted the click wheels to allow her to see clearly.
‘See that up in the sky?’ he asked.
Carmine looked up and found what he was pointing to. it was a large triangle shaped creature, flying very high up in the sky. She frowned at it and cocked her head to the side. ‘What is it?’ she asked.
‘I believe they call it a “Blackjack”,’ he said. ‘Listen, this is very important. I need to run to the top of this hill. I need you to keep your eyes on it, and call out to me if it sees me. Understand?’
She didn’t understand, but she could tell it was important that she did as she was told. ‘No, I don’t understand, but I will do as you ask regardless.’
Ryswell smiled and leaned over, giving her a kiss on the cheek. ‘Good girl,’ he said and started to jog to the hill.
‘How will I know if it sees you?!’ she called out to him.
‘You’ll know! Trust me!’ he called back.
Carmine kept her eyes up on the Blackjack. She’d never seen anything quite like it before. It reminded her of a bird, the way it almost seemed to glide on the air.
It was getting closer, that much she could tell, it would be overhead in just a few seconds. She watched as it suddenly changed shape. She blinked at it. Was she seeing things?
No. It most certainly changed. It was no longer shaped like a triangle, but had wings that folded out in line perpendicular to its body, like an eagle, it was slowing down, and banked gently to its left, towards the hill.
She knew that this was the sign she was meant to look for. ‘It’s seen you!’ she cried out just as a column of fire erupted from the strange creature and a contrail of smoke billowed from it.
She pulled the binoculars off her eyes and looked over to the top of the hill. Ryswell had reached the summit, and was fiddling with something on the ground.
The contrail was heading down towards the summit of the hill. She didn’t know what exactly was happening, but she was afraid. She knew that Ryswell was in mortal danger. ‘RYSWELL!’ she cried out.
Ryswell suddenly turned and ran, jumping into the air and dove to any sort of relative safety. A red beam of light erupted from the hilltop, and struck the Blackjack. The creature burst into flames, and tumbled from the sky. Carmine raised her forelegs up to shield herself from the bright light, and was suddenly knocked to the ground as the contrail from the creature struck the ground and exploded.
Carmine was stunned. She had forgotten how to breath in the shock, but after a few moments she was able to sit up. She watched as the flaming Blackjack fell from the sky, and crashed headlong into a mountain off in the distance and exploded in a colourful ball of fire.
She rose to her hooves, feeling like she’d forgotten something. ‘Ryswell!’ she called out and ran towards the hill.
She found him on the other side of it, having been thrown by the same shockwave to the bottom of the hill that had knocked her down. She galloped to his side, skidding to a halt and knelt down beside him. ‘Are you alright? Are you hurt?’ she asked.
Ryswell panted and picked himself up. ‘Not terribly, I’ll survive,’ he groaned as he sat up.
‘What sort of creature was that?’ she asked.
‘Not a creature,’ he admitted. ‘That was a machine.’
She could hardly believe him. It must have been obvious when Ryswell noticed her staring blankly at him.
‘I am certain you have many questions. I will answer them, but not here. We are not out of danger yet,’ Ryswell said.
Carmine nodded her head and helped Ryswell to his hooves. The stallion scanned around before spotting a cave opening in a rock wall further back behind the hill. ‘Over there!’ he pointed and tugged her foreleg to run with him.
Ryswell had taken back the binocular goggles. Turning the click wheels softly as he looked up at the sky from the mouth of the cave. He was satisfied in what he saw, an empty sky. He pulled the goggles off his head and deposited them back in his bag.
‘Ryswell, I—’ Carmine began, but the stallion cut her off.
‘I will answer your questions at the proper time. We seem to be safe for the moment, we should rejoin the others and—’
Carmine found her blood boiling at the way that Ryswell had casually dismissed her. She gritted her teeth and let out her anger. ‘No!’ she snarled, and leapt at him.
Ryswell stumbled back. She had clearly caught him off guard. Carmine thrust a hoof at him, pinning him up against the wall.
‘I am not going another step without an explanation!’ she growled. ‘You want something from me Ryswell. You keep pushing me into a direction you want me to go. Well I’m tired of it. I swear Ryswell, if I don’t get some answers right now, I will hurt you!’
Ryswell could only stare back at her. He was shocked by her outraged response. As he thought about it, he realised that this was his own fault. Now he had to live with the consequences.
He slowly nodded his head. ‘Very well, I had hoped to delay this for a bit longer, but it seems that I have no choice now,’ he admitted.
Carmine let him go. She felt nauseous, dizzy, and exhausted. Such intense anger had fatigued her, it seemed. She sighed and shook her head. ‘My explanation?’ she asked.
Ryswell nodded. ‘It is not by chance I chose this cave. Follow me deeper inside, and you shall have it,’ he said.
Carmine opened her mouth to protest, but Ryswell raised a hoof.
‘I promised you an explanation. I shall give you one, come with me,’ he said and took her foreleg, giving it a gentle tug and began to walk deeper into the cave.
It was pitch black in the cave, the light from the outside world couldn’t penetrate this deep, but despite that, Carmine found that she could still see.
Something had happened, her emotional outburst had done something. She looked over at Ryswell in confusion.
He looked back at her. ‘I think you are beginning to understand why I must show you the explanation. I doubt you would believe me simply telling you.’
They stopped by a pool of water. Ryswell pulled up a hoof-ful for a quick drink. Carmine knelt down to do the same.
She let out a gasp of surprise. Even in the low light, she could tell the difference.
Her eyes were no longer their normal pink, but had changed to emerald green.
She looked to Ryswell for explanation. ‘Patience, I have promised you. I will not renege on it, I swear it.’
They continued walking for what seemed like an hour. They were getting close to their destination. Carmine could see a faint light at the end of the tunnel. She knew that was where her answers would be found. She could feel it in her heart.
The end of the tunnel opened into a massive cavern, it was faintly lit with candles scattered around at opportune places to allow just enough light to see clearly without her newly found dark sight.
It was warm, and quite humid for being so far underground. She reckoned they had descended at least two hundred metres. Something was controlling the climate to make it more comfortable for something that most certainly wasn't a pony.
She had not needed to wonder what for long, as she glanced around she saw several sets of glowing blue eyes looking back at her. Several equinoid figures approached out of dark corners of the cavern to investigate her. There could hardly be any confusion as to what they were. Black carapaces with gossamer wings, jagged limbs and glowing blue eyes looked back at her.
Changelings, she thought.
Indeed, they were. A group of six had approached, one leaned forward and gently sniffed at her, before offering a warm smile. It approved of Carmine being here.
Carmine smiled at the changeling before her, reaching out with a hoof and gently rubbing its head. The changeling approved and chittered quietly, rubbing its head against her hoof as she pet it. She glanced over to Ryswell. ‘This is the hive?’ she asked.
‘One of them, there are tunnels and burrows that stretch all across the Regime,’ he said simply. ‘Come on, we have just a bit further to go.’
She followed Ryswell’s lead, falling into step behind him. The changelings following close behind. They wound through the complex for a while, making twists and turns that Carmine could hardly keep straight. Ryswell seemed to know exactly where to go. She was nervous by this; how did he know where to go?
They finally came to the largest of the caverns, a rounded room with high vaulted ceilings. Carmine looked up to see a skylight at the very tip of the room. They must have made their way under the mountain that the Blackjack had crashed into.
In the centre of the cavern was a large throne, manually carved from obsidian. Ryswell waved her over towards it, and stood just before the seat. ‘Here we are,’ he said with a smile.
Carmine looked confused. ‘A room is an explanation?’ she asked.
‘No, of course not, don’t be silly,’ he said with a toothy smile. ‘There’s a person in it that has one though.’
She cocked her head to the side, Ryswell’s face suddenly began to flutter, almost as if he was made of putty. Carmine watched as he began to change. He grew to two hundred centimetres in height, sprouted gossamer wings, His limbs grew into jagged shapes like the other changelings around them, he sprouted fangs, and eyes turned to a glowing green.
At this point, it was clear that he was no longer a ‘he’. Carmine stood face to face with Chrysalis, the Queen of all changelings.
Carmine’s eyes widened in shock, and she dropped to her knees. ‘My Queen!’ she gasped.
Chrysalis smiled and offered Carmine a hoof, helping her back to all fours. ‘Please, Miss Carmine, there is hardly need for that,’ she said and trotted over to her obsidian throne, sitting back on it. ‘Well, you wanted an explanation, didn’t you?’ she asked and spread her forelegs wide, gesturing to her surroundings. ‘How is this?’
Carmine could hardly believe it. ‘Y—you were Ryswell the entire time?’ she asked.
‘In a manner of speaking,’ she said with a playful giggle.
‘And the others? Martel, Flint?’ she asked, cocking her head.
Chrysalis beamed at her. ‘See for yourself,’ she pointed back to the tunnel with her hoof. Carmine turned to watch as Martel and the rest of the troop trotted in. Each of them in turn bursting into green flame, revealing their true forms as changelings.
Carmine blinked at them, but offered the changelings a smile after a few moments. One they were all quick to return. Chrysalis cleared her throat, and Carmine turned back to her.
‘I believe you had a question you wished to ask me, yes?’ she asked, resting her chin under her forehoves.
Carmine had to think about it for a moment, but she finally remembered it. ‘Yes. Do you know who my mother is? What became of her?’ she asked.
Chrysalis grined. ‘That’s two questions,’ she said playfully and stuck her tongue out at her. ‘I do know the answers to these questions.’
Carmine sat at the foot of her throne, looking up at the queen longingly for the information.
‘Your mother was a changeling, one of the hive that we sent into the village those fifteen Junes ago, disguised of course. A changeling’s shapeshifting ability is flawless, right down to the genetic level. Your father sired you with her, and she carried you to term. The hive decided it would be best for you to live as normal of a life as possible. So you were deposited with your father in his Food Slave village,’ Chrysalis said.
Well, that had answered her main question, but now she had many more.
‘Food slave?’ she asked.
‘That’s what you are,’ she said with a smile. ‘All you who live in the villages we keep as food! Changelings feed on the emotions of others, you see. We keep you as happy as possible, and harvest you during Trade time, like any other crop!’
Carmine frowned at this, but Chrysalis waved a hoof.
‘I’m sure it sounds callous when I put it that way, but believe me. We genuinely want you to live happy lives. For our own benefit, as well as yours,’ she said.
Carmine nodded her head. ‘What happened to my mother?’ she asked.
‘I am sad to say, that the physical drone that carried you to term is dead. Killed in a raid against the Praesidium, where the Blackjack came from. It was not six months after you were born, though the physical drone is not the one that matters. You see, it was the hive that you can consider to be your mother. I am the hive, therefore, I am your mother,’ she said brightly.
That worried Carmine more than it helped, the thoughts of her changed eyes popped into her head. ‘Am I a changeling?’ she asked.
Chrysalis gave her a hearty chuckle. ‘No, don’t be silly. If you were a changeling my darling daughter, you would have known a long time ago. No, like I said, the changeling impersonation is flawless. Right down to the genetic level. You’re an earth pony, truly.’
‘Why have me at all?’ she asked.
Chrysalis bit her lip, she must have been hoping not to answer this particular question. ‘You were an accident to be honest. The hive did not maintain full transformation discipline, and as a result, a few changeling traits did manage to sneak their way into you. Your changing eyes, for example? Classic changeling trait.’
Carmine clutched her head, she had a lot to think about with what her Queen had told her.
‘Tired?’ Chrysalis asked.
Carmine nodded her head.
‘It’s been a long day so far,’ Chrysalis said with a nod, and rose from her obsidian throne. She gripped Carmine in her telekinesis, and brought her into her outstretched forelegs, and gave her daughter a hug. ‘I am so glad you’re home, my Carmine.’
Chrysalis had set Carmine down in a prepared bed that was little more than a bundle of furs, and placed her under hypnosis. Her mother explained that a hypnotically commanded sleep was the most restful. She counted to five and commanded her to sleep. The next thing Carmine knew; it was eight hours later. She felt refreshed. It had been the best sleep of her life.
The made up bedroom was damp and cool, a little chamber off to the side of the main hall. She had been surprised at how quickly it had been made up, Chrysalis had explained that the hive mind of the changelings was able to focus on hundreds of tasks at the same time without distraction, far more than the capacity than any individual.
Carmine sat up and let out a yawn, and rose to her hooves to stretch out. Her ears twitches, she heard a commotion from the main room and quietly trotted over to investigate.
She peered out from behind a hanging cloth that had been erected as a makeshift door, and spotted Chrysalis on her obsidian throne. Standing before her was a unicorn mare who looked so tiny by comparison. She was a silvery coated mare with matching two tone dark and light grey mane. Her blue eyes looking on with anger.
‘We have warned you repeatedly, Queen Chrysalis. Yet you continue to poke the hornets’ nest with a stick, the Praesidium—’
‘I am not concerned by the Unified Praesidium of Socalist Republics,’ Chrysalis spat back. ‘The Cossack ponies can come at me all they like. They have what I need, and I will take it, regardless of what you damnable Others, or your Tribunal of Ch’a has to say.’
Ch’a, the strange foreign sound of the word rolled over Carmine’s tongue. She silently mouthed it as she eavesdropped on the conversation.
‘I am warning you, Your Majesty, your recent actions affect not only you. The Tribunal has expended much to keep the peace here. The treaty—'
‘I know what the treaty says, Shining Path, if you recall, you and I are the only two signatories still alive,’ Chrysalis chided her.
The mare called Shining Path wrinkled her nose. ‘Very well, but we will be keeping a close eye on you,’ she said.
‘A great deal many I should think. You Others do have compound eyes after all,’ Chrysalis grinned.
Shining Path was not amused. ‘Just remember, you have been warned, keep to the treaty, we’ll know if you don’t,’ she said, pointing at Chrysalis with a hoof, before turning about face and storming off.
Chrysalis sighed and rubbed her temple. ‘Damnable Others,’ she mumbled and looked up. ‘You can come out, my darling daughter, I know you are eavesdropping from behind the curtain.’
Carmine jumped in surprise, and gently pushed the curtain aside. ‘So, how did you know I was listening?’ she asked.
Chrysalis smiled, ‘Because you just told me,’ she said with a chuckle.
Carmine looked sheepishly at her. ‘I suppose I did.’
‘Allow me to share with you the first rule of not being seen: Not to stand up,’ she added and waved her over.
Carmine did so, and stood before her Queen. ‘If it makes you feel any better, I have no idea what you're talking about with—whoever that was.’
‘Shining Path of Truth and Justice,’ Chrysalis said. ‘Don't let her look fool you, she is not a unicorn. She was an Other.’
‘What’s an “Other?”’ she asked.
‘Oh, probably only the single most frustrating beings to work with in this life. They’re big green insects that walk around on six legs attached to their thorax, no abdomen, and big ant heads with compound eyes, antennae, and mantis forelimbs,’ Chrysalis smiled brightly. ‘It’s actually quite ironic. They hide their true insectoid forms by taking the forms of ponies when they can. Just as we hide our true forms by taking the forms of insectoids.’
Carmine looked surprised. ‘This isn’t the changeling true form?’ she asked, gesturing to Chrysalis.
‘No,’ Chrysalis said with an amused smile. ‘No, this form is just another parlour trick, another useful lie to make our enemies understand only what we want them to,’ she added.
Carmine raised an eyebrow. ‘But why lie in your own homeland? There are no enemies here,’ she pointed out.
Chrysalis nodded her head. ‘True enough, but lying is a skill like any other. And if you want to maintain a level of excellence, you have to practise constantly,’ she said, beaming brightly at her.
Carmine frowned. ‘Mother, is there no one you trust with the truth?’ she asked.
‘The truth is usually just an excuse for lack of imagination,’ Chrysalis commented. ‘If it makes you feel any better though, everything I told you yesterday was the truth.’
This made Carmine breathe a sigh of relief, but then a thought popped into her head. ‘How do I know if you’re telling me the truth right now when you’re saying that though?’
The biggest smile formed on Chrysalis’ face. ‘You don’t!’ she giggled with absolute glee. ‘That’s my girl! You’re learning fast already!’
Carmine was not amused, she turned from her mother and started to trot off. ‘I need some fresh air,’ she said, but paused, realising she didn’t remember their way back through the tunnels to the surface. ‘How do I get out of here?’
‘You’ll need a guide, I think,’ she said and clapped her hooves together, a changeling stepped forward from the shadow, and took the shape of Martel.
Martel smiled at her and bowed low to the ground. ‘My lady Bolton, it will be an honour to escort you,’ he said with a kind smile.
Carmine sighed, and nodded, and fell into step behind him as he led her through the tunnels back to the surface.
‘She really is quite pleasant, once you get to know her,’ Martel commented.
‘You are only saying that because she is the personification of the hive mind, and that is what the hive mind is telling you to say,’ Carmine said dryly.
‘Yes!’ Martel admitted with glee in his voice.
Carmine could not help but sigh and shook her head. She really shouldn’t be so critical of her mother; it was just the way things were with changelings. Deceit was what kept the changeling race alive. She was the outsider here; it was not her place to judge.
Martel finally led her out of the tunnels, and left her be at the mouth of the cave. He waited just inside, ready to lead her back when she was ready.
Carmine’s eyes had been adjusted to dark sight for so long that she was blinded upon stepping into open air. It was the middle of the night, probably close to one or two in the morning, but the light of the moon was just as bright as the sun's in these circumstances.
It was raining again; the warm rains of the October spring were just what she needed to take her minds off things. She could see a few stars through holes in the clouds above. It was quite beautiful, and equally as calming.
She spotted the mare called Shining Path standing in the clearing just at the mouth of the cave. She was muttering to herself in a strange language that Carmine recognised no words to. Curiously she stepped forward to get a better look. Shining Path whirled around suddenly, staring at her with a scowl on her face. The scowl lightened after a few moments of study, and Shining Path relaxed herself.
‘Oh, you’re just one of the Queen’s food slaves, I see,’ she said simply, recognising that Carmine was not a threat.
‘I’m the Queen’s daughter,’ Carmine corrected, her pride wounded at the mare’s assertion.
‘Hm, yes, I suppose you are. You have the Queen’s eyes,’ Shining Path said, pointing to her emerald eyes. ‘Do you know who I am, earth pony?’ she asked, changing the subject.
‘I know you’re an Other,’ Carmine said simply. Truly, that was really all she knew about Shining Path.
This caused the unicorn to frown. ‘I really don’t like being called that. “Other”, there’s a certain meaning implied with it. If you must call us anything, I would prefer it if you used our race name’s closest approximation: ulix’ith’nail.’
Carmine frowned as she tossed the word over in her mind. The word sounded not only foreign, but downright alien.
‘Where do you come from? Shining Path?’ she asked, showing a polite curiosity.
‘Not that it’s really any of your business, mud for brains, but if you must know—’ she trotted over and put a hoof under Carmine’s chin, tilting it upwards towards the sky. ‘—see that little blue light up there? Between the clouds? That’s Altair.’
Carmine wanted to point out that she knew all well and good that it was Altair. She knew the stars of the night sky just as well. She decided not to mention this to Shining Path, because she doubted it would help any. ‘That’s where you came from huh? How did you get here then?’ she asked. She regretted her choice of words immediately, because they came off as condescending. She knew the mistake she made the moment the words left her lips.
‘I flew,’ Shining Path said sarcastically.
Carmine sighed. ‘I’m sorry that I even tried to get to know you,’ she admitted.
Carmine spent another night in the changeling hive. She relished the chance to be close to Queen Chrysalis. The hive was her mother, and she felt that she belonged here.
Chrysalis disagreed.
Carmine sat on her lap on the obsidian throne, looking up at her Queen with a frown on her face. 'I was hoping to stay, we've had so much time apart, and I would really love to know you more. Must I go?'
Chrysalis frowned and nodded her head. 'The Praesidium, as a rule, finds collateral damage unacceptable, but they would have no way of knowing that you're here. I could leak the information to them, but I have enough dignity not to use my own daughter as a living shield,' she said simply.
Carmine smiled at that. Her mother had given off an air of callous disregard for life in their earlier talks, but just like everything else in changeling society. It had been just for show.
'I'm going to miss you terribly,' Carmine admitted.
'And so shall I, so shall we all. Fret not my darling daughter. I will always be close by, just as I always have been,' Chrysalis added with a bright smile. 'But say not goodbye yet, I will be escorting you home personally,' she said and stepped off her obsidian throne, and reshaped into Ryswell's form.
'Does it not bother you to be a stallion, mother?' Carmine asked, cocking her head to the side.
Ryswell chuckled. 'Mare, Stallion, asexually reproducing hermaphrodite, no difference at all really, not when you really think about it,' he commented, with an idle wave of his foreleg.
Carmine rolled her eyes, there was no point in arguing.
…
She'd been surprised how different the landscape seemed now that she knew the secret of the Regime.
She realised that there were eyes upon on her at all times, and hidden changelings were all around. There was a squirrel that took too much interest in her and Ryswell as they walked. There was a bird that pecked at the ground idly and let them get far too close for it to be any natural bird. When they stopped to have a bite to eat for lunch, she could swear that the rock she sat on had enjoyed it.
Ryswell only smiled without comment.
Carmine had a newfound appreciation for the wilderness of the Regime. She knew now that she knew the loving eyes of her new family were upon her, always on her. She never had to fear loneliness again.
A thought dawn upon her, and she looked to Ryswell with a blush on her face.
'Mother...' She said.
'Call me Ryswell, but what is it, darling?' He asked.
'Do we have any privacy in the villages? For when... you know...' She asked, blushing hotly.
Ryswell grinned. 'Why? Worried about something? Something embarrassing you wish to hide from your mother?' He asked, playfully.
'Well, I'll be a grown mare soon and...'
'Ah, have a stallion in your eyes?' Ryswell asked.
'Well no, but...'
'A mare then? There were a few in your village that I liked the look of when we were last there. Very pretty.'
'No—you are insufferable!'
'I know, isn't it grand?' Ryswell asked with a bright grin.
Carmine couldn't help but chuckle. She was going to miss the changeling's playful outlook on life.
They set a brisk pace as they travelled. A good steady trot. Without the wagons of the caravan to slow them down, they would reach the village by nightfall.
As she walked, she began to feel glum. Ryswell, of course, as a changeling picked up on the shift in her mood immediately.
'What's wrong, my sweet?' He asked as he waved her off the road.
The two of them sat down in the grass and Carmine's emerald eyes began to water. 'I don't want you to leave me,' she said.
Ryswell wrapped her in his forelegs, hugging her tightly, and resumed the form of Queen Chrysalis.
Carmine smiled up at her. 'Please... I've lived for fifteen years without a mother... I don't want you to leave me.'
Chrysalis gently pet her head. 'Sweet child, I understand the fear of being alone. It is every changeling's most terrible fear, being without the warmth and light of the hive mind... I can only imagine it to be the most terrible experience in this life,' she said, glancing away over Carmine's shoulder.
Carmine nodded her head in affirmation. It made Chrysalis look terribly guilty.
'It is impossible—I won't lie. I can see the appeal, being wife to your father, and raising you properly into a respectable young lady—'
'The exact kind you never were?' Carmine asked, teasingly.
Chrysalis giggled. 'Of course. I'd say: "do what I say, not as I do", and you'd never listen of course because you have too much of me in you,' she added with a smile and leaned back against a tree. 'I can picture it now, how perfect it would be,' she trailed off, as a frown formed on her face, and a tear ran down her cheek.
'It cannot be though. No matter how much I might wish it. Being a changeling is just too dangerous, and I would never be able to devote enough time and attention to give you what you deserve, sweet child,' she said.
Carmine frowned. 'You told me once that the hive could focus on doing thousands of tasks at once without being distracted—'
'That I did, and it is true for mundane tasks, but for moments like this one? What we are doing now, it requires a great deal of focus from the hive. Our awareness is currently focused here, and now,' she said and reached over, placing one of her jagged hooves on Carmine's cheek. 'I want to say yes to you. Carmine, we all do. More than anything else. We are all so conflicted about what to do, many of our voices wish to give our full attention to you, the sentimental dreamers long for it, the practical voices know we cannot without sacrificing much control elsewhere. I—'
Carmine raised a hoof to her. 'Say no more mother, I understand the impossible choice you make, you cannot sacrifice the good of the hive for your feelings for me—it was selfish of me to try and convince you otherwise,' she said and gave her mother a tight hug.
'Not selfish, no,' Chrysalis said as she embraced her daughter back. "It is not selfish to want a mother's love. And our love you shall have, even if it is not as often as we both would like.'
Carmine smiled and hugged her mother tightly, she had never loved anyone more in her entire life.
