The inspector marched through the grand corridor of the royal palace, her chestnut coat and short orange mane glowing in the amber light of evening. She had a tough, stocky build, and her grey eyes were hard as steel behind her circular spectacles. She was dressed in the formal tuxedo of a wealthy noble, but the decorative front-shields of her horseshoes bore the navy-blue emblem of a radiant sun: an officer of the law.

Her eyes flicked back and forth as she passed through the corridor. The steep light of sunset shone in through a row of stained glass windows, tinting the dust in the air with faint bands of color. A pair of guards stood by every door and archway, clad in golden plate armor. These guards could not be shaken from their duties... could not be bribed or intimidated.

A sergeant of the royal guard followed after the inspector, speaking rapidly. “...And we’ve placed a pair of guards on each door. The entire wing is under surveillance as per your advice.”

“Advice?” said the mare. “My advice was to hold the event in the central hall of the main palace. If your captain intends to blame me for any potential disasters, he could have at least followed my advice properly.”

“Pardon, Ma’am, but the Seneschal insisted.”

“Seneschal Silvy’s job is to organize social events for the palace,” said the inspector. “How much are you paying her as a security consultant?”

“You’ll have to take that up with the Captain.”

“I intend to. We can’t—” She paused to look at the nearest stained glass window. “This window is new. They’re all new, aren’t they?”

The young sergeant nodded. “We just had them installed last month.”

“What are they made of?” said the inspector.

“Carved gemstone, actually. A wide variety of types. They’re stronger than coloured glass, and they give off a much brighter color. The court had them installed as a birthday gift for the Princess herself. She was quite touched.”

The inspector snorted and turned away.

“Is there a problem, Ma’am?”

She shook her head and continued on to the end of the hall. The two guards clicked their hooves and straightened their backs. “Inspector. The Captain is—”

Their acknowledgment went ignored. She marched on through the doors, and her lone escort nodded to them as they passed. One of the door guards tapped the side of his helmet and whispered to nopony in particular.

“Captain. ‘The Lens’ has arrived.”

The main ballroom was crowded near to bursting with Equestria’s upper crust, and noble families and wealthy citizens mingled freely. The inspector passed through the crowd unnoticed, glancing briefly at the magnificent array of accessories being worn: Rings and bracelets, pendants and necklaces, tiaras and cufflinks. There were monocles and opera glasses with lenses made from the cross-sections of whole diamonds. Everywhere, jewelry: rubies, emeralds, amethysts. The guests ambled about the room and formed small cliques as they engaged in a quiet game of conversation.

She focused her thoughts and held her eyes straight ahead. She came to a trio of guards speaking quietly amongst themselves. The largest and eldest of them nodded to her as she approached.

“Inspector.”

“Captain Ironsides,” she said with a curt nod. “Where is lady Silvy?”

“She’s in the gallery hall, managing the final preparations for the exhibition.”

The inspector marched past him, heading for a discreet side door.

Ironsides followed after her. “Ma’am, Lady Silvy left us with strict instructions not to interrupt the event. Princess Celestia herself will be in attendance.”

She rolled her eyes. “The potential for catastrophe will be no worse if her Excellency is here to witness it herself.”

“Catastrophe?” Ironsides raised his head a few degrees. “I think you underestimate our control over the situation.”

“Let us be clear on one thing, Captain: I overestimate every threat I encounter. I have yet to be disappointed.”

“Very well,” he said with a curt nod. “The gallery is this way.”

One of the guards touched the side of his helmet. “Seneschal Silvy: The Lens is on route to—”

The Inspector slapped the guard’s shoulder. “Put your hoof down! Are you trying to telegraph the new equipment?”

Ironsides cleared his throat. “Ma’am. Please. You were brought on as a consultant and nothing more. Do please refrain from ordering my forces about.”

“Clearly you must be mistaken,” said the inspector. “A consultant is hired well ahead of time. I, on the other hoof, was given a mere three days to compile a list of security suggestions. Thus far, half of them appear to have been ignored.”

“We work with what we are given. This was the most secure location we could agree on.”

The inspector snorted. “Show me the gallery hall.”

Ironsides led her through the ballroom and into the west wing of the gallery, where a variety of historical treasures were on display: Paintings and drawings hung from the high walls and priceless antiques and archeological treasures sat within sealed cases. For the moment, only the royal guards and palace staff were permitted here.

The inspector stood in the center of the hall and gazed at her surroundings. The balcony and windows? No, too obvious. The second-story rafters, maybe?

“Ahh, Inspector! So glad you could—”

She raised a hoof and shushed. Lady Silvy and the guards froze in place. The inspector’s eyes flicked about the room: The chandeliers, the hanging tapestries, the string quartet stage. The skylights, positioned to allow sunlight to enter without subjecting the paintings to permanent fading.

He loves skylights. Remember how much he loves skylights?

Lady Silvy cleared her throat softly. “Is something wrong?”

“This will be a disaster,” said the inspector. She went to the nearest painting and searched the underside of its frame. “Move the event to the main hall of the palace as I originally suggested. It’s our only hope.”

“The exhibition is set to open in an hour,” said Silvy. “We could never rearrange everything in time!”

The inspector went to the wall and searched the panel seams for airflow. “Then cancel the exhibition.”

“Absolutely out of the question!” said Silvy. “Celestia herself will be in attendance for the viewing of her gift. She would be most disappointed with a delay.”

“Will she be more or less disappointed if the exhibition ends in disaster?”

“Now now. Ironsides assures me that his guards have the area well under control.”

“The Inspector and I have been over this several times already,” Ironsides said. “She seems to doubt that Celestia’s personal honor guard are capable of defending her very own palace.”

The inspector walked past them with her neck tilted back, staring at the ceiling. “The palace is defensible, but that does not make it secure.”

“The room is as secure as it can possibly be. We have a pair of guards covering every entrance: a unicorn for magical support, and a pegasus for mobility.”

The inspector stared out the window and watched the impending sunset. “He makes his own entrances.”

Captain Ironsides and Seneschal Silvy shared a glance. The inspector went to the main stage and pointed at the only thing on display there: A large marble stand with a glass case, almost completely obscured by a silk cloth.

“I need to see the objective.”

“Oh, no-no-no!” exclaimed Silvy. “Nopony outside of the archeological expedition has laid eyes upon it! We want to reveal it to the court at just the right moment.”

“You ask me to guard something, and you won’t even let me see it?” The Inspector clopped her hoof on the marble floor. “For all we know the objective has already been stolen.”

“Don’t be silly. The case has been in the vault all night and day, and only the royal guards were permitted to move it.”

“Was it covered with a cloth for the entire duration?”

“Well, yes. As I said, we want the unveiling to be a surprise for the entire court.”

“Then how do you know the objective was ever in the case to begin with?”

“The handlers did say it was rather heavy. They would have noticed if it was empty.”

The inspector pursed her lips. “Did it occur to you that they might have been carrying a stone of equal weight?”

“But... how could he...!” Silvy looked at the case. “So devious!”

“It is the very core of his modus operandi,” said the inspector. “He takes careful note of his victim’s mistakes and oversights, no matter how slight. In all likelihood, he’s studied this part of the palace in detail. Probably for weeks in advance.”

“How is that even possible? The court only received news of the item three days ago!”

The inspector climbed onto the stage and glowered at the covered case. “Captain. Seneschal. I can guarantee you without the slightest hesitation that The Magpie knows more about this treasure than the three of us combined.”

Ironsides and Silvy shared a frustrated look.

“There’s not time to waste,” said the inspector. “Either we take a look, or I go home right now and get an early sleep. It’s your decision.”

“Not much of a decision, is it?” said Ironsides. “Go on, Silvy. I suppose I can always order the royal guards to act surprised.”

Lady Silvy led them up onto the stage and swept the silk cover aside. The armored glass case contained a large silver statue depicting a life-sized trio of ponies, rearing up to support a crystal globe with their knees. There was one of each race, graceful and slender.

“Breathtaking!” said Ironsides.

“It must be over a thousand years old!” whispered Lady Silvy.

Ironsides and Silvy noticed the inspector’s silence, and turned to watch her.
She leaned close and held up a magnifying glass. “This is all wrong.”

“A forgery, do you think?” said Silvy.

“No,” said the inspector. “It’s probably genuine. Just... wrong. It’s a silver statue with a crystal globe. No jewels or gemstones anywhere, unless something is hidden in the baseplate.”

“It’s still priceless, don’t you think?”

“The Magpie doesn’t care about price. Even so, there’s no way he could sell such a recognizable object. And melting it down for silver wouldn’t be worth the effort.”

Ironsides raised his head. “It’s certainly a famous item. All of Canterlot has been chomping at the bit to lay eyes upon it.”

“The Magpie doesn’t care about fame, either.”

“Well he is awfully famous,” said Silvy.

“An incidental effect I assure you,” said the inspector. “He has other motives.”

“Then why? Why would he want this?”

The inspector ground her teeth as she stared at the silver statue.

“Captain. How many guards have you deployed to the gallery wing?”

“Celestia’s entire personal honor guard stands at the ready,” said ironsides. “Over three hundred strong.”

The inspector turned to him. “We’re guarding the wrong treasure.”

The inspector galloped alongside Ironsides as he bellowed for his lieutenants to assemble: Royal guards rushed back to their traditional posts and messengers scattered in all directions to deliver orders, all in blatant disregard of the palace’s no-flying policy. At the moment, the rest of the palace was being guarded by a minimal crew of conventional cavalry.

“Captain!” the Inspector shouted, “concentrate your forces on the vault and the treasury! Send a guard to any room with a jewel in it, no matter how insignificant!”

“I’ll see to it immediately!” said Ironsides. The inspector’s lack of military rank had been forgotten in the furor.

She turned to the palace matron: the mare in charge of the maids. “Close all the servant’s passages, and keep them closed.”

“But the servants need those passages!” said the matron. “How will they move about without being seen by the guests?”

“They won’t,” said the inspector. “Anypony who tries to use them is to be brought in for questioning, and anypony who refuses is to be arrested immediately.”

“Do you think he’s tricked one of the butlers?” The matron gasped. “Oh my! Do you think he might have dressed up as a butler?!”

The inspector rolled her eyes. “Ma’am. Have you hired any staff within the last three weeks?”

“Well, of course. We hire new ponies all the time.”

“In all likelihood, the Magpie could actually be one of your servants. You could have hired him yourself.”

“So crafty!”

One of Ironside’s Lieutenants landed nearby and offered the inspector a brief salute. “The captain recalled my squadron from the main courtyard! Where do you need us?”

“Guard Celestia’s private living chambers,” said the inspector. “And for goodness sake, don’t just stand outside the doors: put a pony inside every room and watch for intruders.”

“But Ma’am, those are Celestia’s private rooms! Surely nopony would be so bold as to—”

“This is the Magpie we’re dealing with. Better to err on the side of caution.”

“Stealing from the Princess herself?” the lieutenant said through clenched teeth, “the foul rogue!”

“He’s stolen from almost every noble family in Equestria by now,” said the inspector. “It was only a matter of time before he raised his sights.”

She followed the lieutenant into the adjoining hallway, but tensed as she saw one of the guards speaking with a guest: a handsome stallion in a well trimmed suit.

“You! What is he doing here?”

“Sir? Ma’am!” The guard straightened up. “He was asking about the exhibition.”

She pointed at the stallion. “Return to the main hall at once.”

The stallion lifted his nose with a sniff. “Well I never!”

“And you never will.” She pointed at the guard. “Keep the guests in the ballroom. We can afford no distractions.”

“But ma’am. He was only—”

“Put a bridle on it! Our suspect has a substantial history of charming his way in and out of all manner of places. Subtlety is his greatest tool.”

The handsome guest’s eyes widened. “The suspect? You mean the Magpie?!”

“Sir, please.”

He cantered in place. “Do you think he’ll make an appearance? I’ve only heard stories about him!”

“This is a seasoned criminal we’re dealing with! Not a celebrity guest!”

“But he’s ever so exciting!” the stallion said. “I’ve heard he can turn into mist and seep into—”

The inspector stamped her hoof. “Hall. Now.”

The Inspector paced back and forth in the palace’s main entryway: A massive hall that led straight to the public throne room. The chaos had died down somewhat and the crowd was mostly dispersed. All twelve of the court’s administrators were assembled, along with six of the princess’s personal aides. All of them watched as she talked to herself.

“The basement levels? The old sewer tunnels, maybe? No, not reliable enough. The main wall, perhaps? He’s scaled sheer walls before. He’s probably posing as a servant... or possibly a guest.”

“What does he look like?”

The inspector paused to look at the distinguished butler. “What?”

“Well,” said the butler, “perhaps if we knew what the Magpie looked like it would be easier to apprehend him.”

“His appearance is irrelevant,” said the inspector. “We need to watch for suspicious behavior.”

One of the maids spoke up. “I hear he can change his appearance however he wishes!”

“We don’t know anything about his appearance for certain,” said the inspector. “He has disguised himself in the past, so we can’t be sure if he’s an earth pony. Or even a stallion, for that matter.”

“So sneaky!”

“I hear he can change into a pegasus or a unicorn!” one of the other maids said.

“I heard he can even change his cutie mark!”

“Oh yeah? Well, I heard he doesn’t even have a cutie mark!”

The inspector waved at the group before the conversation went any further. “Quiet, everypony. Quiet! He is clever and extremely capable, but he’s still just a pony. Rumor-mongering will get us nowhere. We must rely on facts, and facts alone.”

“Well what do you know for certain?” said one of the butlers. “You know all about him, don’t you?”

“What little there is to know, yes,” said the inspector. “He only steals gems and jewelry, he prefers to target famous stones, and he’s defeated some of the most elaborate security systems in all of Equestria.”

One of the kitchen staff brightened up. “Remember when he stole the Beige Diamond from the Institute of Historical Research?”

“I saw that happen!” said a laundry maid. “You could see the fireworks all the way from the palace wall!”

The crowd of palace staff ooh’d in chorus. The Inspector’s clenched teeth were starting to give her a headache.

“Excuse me, Inspector.” Everyone looked to the approaching royal guard. “The guests are moving into the exhibition room now, and the Seneschal plans to unveil the artifact at sunset.”

“A fine distraction, to be sure. Everypony stay with a guard and watch for any suspicious behavior, no matter how insignificant it may seem.”

Everyone left the main hall. The messenger stayed behind, watching the inspector pace.

“Inspector Lens?”

“Spectacles,” she said.

“Pardon, Ma’am?”

“My name is Spectacles,” she said. “Inspector Spectacles, if you really must.”

“Yes ma’am,” said the messenger. “But then why do newspapers always call you The Lens?”

“Ask the papers,” said Spectacles. “They’re the ones who came up with it in the first place. I always thought it was a little pretentious.”

“Of course, Ma’am. So... do you really think he’ll show?”

“I have no doubt,” Spectacles said as she reached into one of her pockets. Her tuxedo was rumpled from running back and forth and her styled mane was reverting to its usual tousled mess. “Based on evidence from his most recent heist, he plans to strike somewhere within the palace itself.”

There was a pause.

“I hear he can—”

“Don’t. Just please, don’t.”

“Sorry, Ma’am. But do you think you’ll catch him this time? I mean, you’ve been chasing him for... well, for years.”

“Seven.” She pulled a pipe from her pocket and stuck it in her mouth. “Seven years.”

“He certainly is Equestria’s most notorious jewel thief.”

“Pfeh... he’s Equestria’s only jewel thief.”

“Only because you keep putting the others away,” the messenger said. “You’ve caught dozens of thieves, haven’t you?”

“Just petty crooks and burglars.” Spectacles took a small bottle of liquid soap and held it over the bowl of her pipe. “The Magpie was the first of them all, and the only significant one since.”

The messenger pointed at the pipe. “Ma’am? That’s not allowed in the palace.”

Spectacles stared at him for a moment.

“I’ll be in the courtyard. Let me know if anything happens.”

Spectacles stood in the inner garden, surrounded by rich light and long shadows. A tiny stream of bubbles trailed from the end of her pipe and danced through the air.

What am I missing? There’s always something.

She thought back to every other crime scene the Magpie had left behind. There had been plenty of evidence, but none of it had been useful. He had no connections with other criminals, and he’d never been photographed without his costume or a convincing disguise. His diverse array of skills suggested that he was part of a tightly knit gang, and yet he was never seen working with anypony... no teammates, and no accomplices. The jewelry he stole never appeared on the black market or in private collections. They just vanished. Spectacles had spent the last seven years chasing a ghost. She knew so much about his methods, but so little about his motives.

The motive is all that matters. Learn the motive, and the game is over.

She held her pipe out and spilled the last of the soap onto the manicured lawn. As she did, a fleeting motion in the sky caught her eye: Something slipped over the inner wall and flew towards the palace proper. She ran further along the garden, just in time to see a fourth story window slide shut.

She galloped back into the palace and waved at the nearest guard. “You there: follow me closely!”

“Sir?” the guard straightened up and rushed to her side. “Ma’am! How can I be of assistance?”

“I need to check something out, and I need a royal escort. You never know.”

Spectacles and the guard ran through the palace and came to the fourth story of the guest quarters, glancing into each of the rooms they passed.

“What are we looking for, exactly?” asked the guard. “Did you see something suspicious?”

“All I saw was a blur. I could swear it had wings, but it was much too big to be a bird.”

“Didn’t you say the Magpie was an earth pony?”

“The evidence for it is overwhelming, but I’ve been wrong before.” She opened another door and, after a brief glance, rushed inside. “The window!”

He walked in after her. “So? It’s closed.”

“This is the only room we’ve seen where the curtains are open. Perhaps...” She went to the window and checked the sill. “Ah, look at this faint scrape! He must have slid something through and lifted the latch.”

The guard stepped in after her, glancing about the room. “He can do that? So sinister!”

“It’s the least of what he can do,” she said. “He’s never broken a window or shattered a lock. For that matter, I don’t think he’s ever once damaged anything.”

The guard went to at the window and looked at the walled courtyard far below. “If we’re dealing with a pegasus half our security measures will be worthless.”

She gave a slight shrug. “I wouldn’t rule it out, but it’s still unlikely.”

“What if he hired a pegasus?”

“Even less likely,” Spectacles said. “The Magpie works alone.”

“But how could an earth pony reach the window? It’s forty yards to the wall and twenty to the ground!”

Spectacles turned back to the guard and shook her head. “A gap that large is nothing new to him. Never underestimate earth pony ingenuity. Tell everypony to—” she stopped and glanced at the side of the bed. Leaning against the bookstand was a set of grey, unmarked saddlebags.

The door opened behind them, and they turned to see a maid wearing the iconic black-and-white uniform.

“Excuse me,” she said, “but this suite is reserved for Lady Primrose. I’ll have to ask you to leave.”

“Let me handle this.” The guard turned to the maid. “We have reason to believe a burglar may have used this room. We need to perform a thorough search.”

“Well, how long will you need it for?”

He fixed her with a stern look. “Miss. We’ll be done when we’re done.”

The maid pursed her lips. “Very well. I’ll simply have to arrange alternate accommodations.” She left, closing the door behind her.

“Honestly, the servants here act like they run the place.” The guard rolled his eyes as he turned back to Spectacles. “You were saying?”

She leaned close. “I need you to listen to me carefully and do as I say. It’s very important.”

“Yes, Ma’am?”

“Tell Captain Ironsides to close off this entire floor and be quiet about it. I think I know where the Magpie is.”

“You do? Where, then?”

“Just do as I’ve said and, no matter what happens, be subtle about it!”

“Yes, Ma’am. But where—” The guard’s eyes widened. “T-the maid? She... he!?”

“Hush! We need to stay—”

The guard leapt across the room and barged out the door with a commanding roar. “Stop, you blackhearted thief! Stop in the name of the princess!”

“No, you fool!” Spectacles cried out and sprinted after him. There were sounds of a heavy scuffle, and something muffled the guard’s bellowing voice. When Spectacles reached the hallway, the guard was trussed and gagged with his own chains. The maid was sprinting down the hallway and soon vanished around a corner: The hoof-beats were utterly silent on the hard marble floor.

Spectacles rushed to the thrashing guard, snatched his tiny clip-on earring and put it on her own ear. She sprinted off, leaving the guard behind.

“Ironsides! I can confirm the suspect is in the palace!”

“I hear you, Inspector. Report to the exhibition hall at once to oversee the unveiling.”

“Absolutely not!” said Spectacles. “I can’t lose track of him now!”

“That was an order, Inspector. If the Magpie is already on the grounds, your precautions have already failed. This is now a matter for the royal cavalry! Inspector? Answer me, Inspector!”

Spectacles discarded the earring and ran down the hallway, and Ironside’s voice was faded and tinny in the distance.

Why do they ask for my advice if they ignore it every time? The royal guards might as well throw my consultation fee in a hole in the ground and bury it. Save us all a headache.

Spectacles galloped through the innermost halls of the palace at a breakneck pace. Her powerful muscles churned with effort, and her fine tuxedo was soon completely rumpled. She could have no hope of catching up to him: Seven years of following in his wake had earned her no success, so her only hope now was to predict his next move.

There’s only one place he could be headed. Nothing else makes any sense. It’s the only thing left for him to steal. If I’m wrong, he’ll make me look like a fool. But on the off-chance I’m right...

The palace wasn’t merely one large structure. It was the size of a city, and its halls and corridors were a confusing labyrinth to all but the most familiar residents. This was partly intentional, since a maze-like layout made the palace easier to defend against hostile forces. At the moment, though, it was a liability.

She charged down one final hallway and reached the innermost chambers, a place few ponies knew about and fewer still had ever visited. Spectacles wondered if Ironsides had ordered his guards to apprehend herself as well as the Magpie. She had certainly disobeyed a direct order, which technically meant that she was trespassing.

She skidded around a corner and came to a pair of reinforced double-doors, both wide open. The guards on each side gave her no trouble as she passed: they were trussed up and gagged with their helmets turned backwards, and a quick glance revealed that one of them was missing a set of keys. Spectacles snatched the remaining set and pressed on.

The corridors here were darker than usual and the wall lanterns cast sharp pools of light at regular intervals. Spectacles poked the side of her circular, frameless glasses, and their lenses flipped in place. The corridor ahead came alive with a spectrum of color: The warm light of the lanterns were now yellow and orange pools set against the purple and blue of the stone-cold walls. There was nopony else in sight.

Alright. You’ve studied his techniques your entire career. He’s just a pony.

A shape flitted across the hallway ahead. It’s body was a spectrum of reds and yellows, but the silhouette was instantly recognizable: A thin and graceful pony with an androgynous build, but a stance and posture that suggested a stallion. He stopped to glance about the hall and froze as their eyes locked. Spectacles flipped the lenses of her glasses and saw exactly what she expected: the maid’s uniform was gone, and he now wore a charcoal-grey bodysuit covered with buckles and pockets. A short cloak covered his neck and shoulders and a sleek, stylish hat served to hold a veil over his head. She could barely make out the shape of his face... a shadowy outline behind the gauzy black cloth.

Spectacles gave him a mildly disappointed frown. “You get one chance to surrender.”

The stallion bolted. She charged after, but slid to a halt. He hadn’t gone around a corner or ran down the hallway: He’d run into the wall. Straight into it. She rushed over and searched for seams, knobs or levers. She’d never been in this part of the palace before, and hadn’t thought there might be servant’s passages here. A quick search revealed no such hidden opening.

This couldn’t have been a magic spell. His hat was too low to conceal a horn... he can’t possibly be a unicorn.

She heard a faint scraping sound and pressed her ear against the wall: there was a distinct noise on the other side, like a giant zipper being drawn. The noise shot upward and faded into the distance. She ran through the nearest door and into a large laundry room. There, by the spot in the wall, was the cabinet door for a heavy-duty laundry chute. Spectacles’ eye twitched when she saw the heraldic emblem emblazoned on the hatch: a glittering, golden sun.

Spectacles rushed back, took the clip-on earring from one of the restrained guards and set it to her own ear. “Captain! I have encountered the suspect in the lower chambers of the inner palace! He used a zip-cable to climb a laundry chute, and should arrive in the Princess Celestia’s private quarters any second now!”

The captain’s voice came back, faint and scratchy.

Spectacles tapped the earring. “Captain? Captain, repeat!”

“...Equip... failure... type of... interf...”

She clenched her jaw. “Captain! I need to reach the upper levels!”

“...Side entr... shipping do... have a cha... wait... for...”

She sprinted down the halls, retracing her steps by memory. After a two minute sprint she shoved open a pair of large doors and stepped outside, wincing at a blast of frigid mountain wind. She’d come to an array of docks built into the side of the mountain, below the palace: a series of heavily reinforced suspension bridges that reached out and hung in the air. Her tousled mane whipped in the wind and a cloudy mist filled her mouth and nostrils.

She caught sight of a two-pegasus chariot coming in for a landing, and ran out onto the middle dock to meet it halfway. She leapt into the vehicle before it came to a complete stop and shouted at the lead pilot. “Take me to whichever building Ironsides is in, and tell him to meet me on the roof!”

The chariot skidded to a halt on the roof of the central gallery hall. Ironsides was already there with an entire squadron of pegasus. “Inspector, this situation is an absolute disaster!”

“At last, we agree,” Spectacles said as she disembarked the chariot. “What did you find in the royal quarters?”

“The interloper was nowhere to be found,” he said. “There was some sort of hooked cable attached to the inside of the laundry chute. We found no less than six guards tied up with their own restraints, and their key rings and ear-pieces were missing.”

“We can assume the new communication earrings are compromised. If the Magpie is wearing one, he can hear everything we say.”

One of the other guards gasped. “So insidious!”

“It’s fairly routine by his standards,” said Spectacles. “Have you lost track of any other guards?”

“Not so far. We have everypony on high alert.”

“What kind of alert were they on before?” She snorted and looked down from the edge of the rooftop. By now, the palace was shrouded by dusk. “He has what he came for. Celestia have mercy on us if we allow him to escape.”

“Where... where is he? How do we...”

Spectacles glowered at the captain, but her expression softened as she saw a touch of helplessness in his grizzled old face. She looked out over the rooftops again, and the nearby guards held their breath as they waited for her to speak.

“Captain.”

“Yes, Inspector?”

Spectacles’ eyes flitted about the neighboring rooftops. She spoke slowly, working her jaw back and forth. “Where is the guest wing?”

Ironsides pointed to a long, wide building with a flat roof.

“I stumbled across a suspicious set of saddlebags in one of the guest rooms. They may have belonged to the Magpie. If he attempts to recover them, we may yet intercept him.”

“His saddlebags?” Ironsides said, “why would he risk retrieving something so trivial?”

Spectacles knew that the Magpie relied on some of the most ingenious gadgets known. Perhaps the bags contained vital tools for his escape. Perhaps he didn’t want anyone to reverse-engineer them, or perhaps the bags contained some minor clue to his true identity. There were a dozen possible reasons and she had no time to explain her train of thought. No time to share the details she had gleaned over seven years of hunting one lone thief. But neither did she explain her doubts: If the saddlebags belonged to the Magpie, and if he had not already recovered them, and if he still had need of their contents... so many unknowns.

Spectacles said nothing as she ran to the nearest chariot. The captain followed after her, barking orders for the pegasi to prepare for takeoff. The brief flight to the nearby rooftop felt like an eternity, and they landed near one of the smaller observation towers and rushed down a service stairwell. Spectacles and Ironsides arrived at the fourth story hallway just in time to see a dozen guards charging after a lone, shadowy figure.

The Magpie fled into a dead-end corridor, jumped up, and kicked off against the facing wall. He ran along the ceiling for a moment and sailed over the pursuing crowd. The guard’s rugged, outdoor horseshoes skidded against the smooth marble floor and the whole gang plowed against the wall in a tangled heap. Two other guards with chains bolted out from either side of a crosswise corridor, attempting to tackle him from both sides. He vaulted between them with a kick and a flip, and they crashed against each other as he fled. When they tried to stand, they collapsed: their own manacles had been clamped around their legs. A third guard, with the grey coat of a unicorn, suspended the trespasser in the air with an aura of magical light. A tiny puff of brown smoke splashed against his face and he went into a violent sneezing fit. The grasping field of sparkles vanished and the Magpie darted past.

Spectacles and Ironsides rounded the corner and saw three more pairs of guards, all chained together with their own manacles.

Ironsides stared, aghast. “This... this stripling of a colt is single-hoofedly making a mockery of my troops!”

“Honestly, I don’t think your troops need the help. This way, quickly.”

They ran up a stairwell and out onto the roof, where a massive cloud of sparkling brown powder had filled the air. The pegasi were flying well above it, and the ground forces were scrambling for nearby exits. Wails of terror mingled with coughing fits.

“Poison dust?!” said Ironsides. “The vile monster!”

Spectacles charged into the cloud without hesitation. She’d seen this before: crystallized cinnamon-sugar powder bombs designed to obscure all scent and vision. It was completely harmless, but even the hint of poison had sent the seasoned guards scrambling for cover. Spectacles knew they weren’t cowards: they simply hadn’t been prepared for this.

She tapped her glasses, spinning the lenses once more. The glittering brown powder vanished, replaced by the yellow-orange silhouettes of ponies. Only one of them wasn’t running around or rolling on the floor: one figure stood in the middle of the roof, calm and still. He shook his shoulders and took a deep breath.

No... he couldn’t be!

Spectacles galloped towards the figure even as her mind reeled with doubt. The lithe stallion ran directly towards the edge of the roof, with a rare determination in his posture. Her muscles burned as she galloped, desperate to intercept the thief before he could leap from the roof.

He can’t be a pegasus! After all these years, it flies in the face of everything I know about him!

She lost track of her surroundings entirely as her vision focused, trancelike, on the perpetrator ahead of her. He was all that mattered now. She wondered if he saw her, or whether he could see anything through his own sickly-sweet smokescreen. She had never been so close to catching him. She felt a moment of deep, inner stillness as the distance between them closed.

At the last moment his grey saddlebags burst open with a symphony of springs and gears, and a great fan of metal knives spread to either side of him. They were cold blue to her enhanced vision, yet they flexed and moved like living things. She collided with him just at the edge of the roof and they careened off the sixth story building together. Even now, in a whirling panic, she struggled to put her surroundings in order. Everything was lost in a blur, and the only sensation was that of intense vertigo.

“The reports from the archeological expedition leave no room for doubt. This artifact is the only item recovered from the twelfth dynasty in such pristine condition. The report goes on to describe the historical significance of the item, and the remarkable insight it gives us into the artistry of the period. Even more importantly, it serves as a symbol of lasting peace and unity... a peace that may have been realized far earlier than any historian thought possible! And who better to receive such a priceless treasure than the greatest proponent of love and unity our civilization has ever known: our own beloved monarch, Her Royal Majesty, Princess Celestia!”

A great chorus of applause thundered as the courtly guests stamped their hooves against the marble floor. Celestia glanced about the room, resplendent, yet humbled by the outpouring of attention.

The speaker, clad in the formal uniform of a royal courier, bowed to the crowd. He stepped aside just as Lady Silvy stepped on-stage to take his place.

“Thank you!” Silvy said, “thank you very much for speaking on behalf of the expedition team responsible for this remarkable find. We regret they were unable to present this artifact in person, and our thoughts and well-wishes go out to them.” She turned back to the crowd with a warm smile. “But, as their reports clearly indicate, this may only be the tip of the iceberg. The archaeologist's hard work and perseverance continues even now, and I have every faith that they will soon return with even greater discoveries: treasures from the past that could enrich our lives with beauty and wonder!”

There was another thundering round of applause. Princess Celestia opened her mouth to speak, but hesitated. Nopony noticed as she looked up at the roof.

“And now, the moment you’ve all been waiting for!”

Somethign heavy slammed against the roof and everypony flinched and looked up. There was a moment of silence, followed by a slow, heavy creak. Heavy metal cables squealed and snapped and one of the giant skylight windows came loose. The entire framework collapsed and the square window frame, six yards on a side, fell onto the stage with a deafening crash. The display case shattered into knobby little chunks of safety glass, and the silver statue toppled from the stage. The crystal ball, delicate and perfect, fell to the floor with a dull clunk. It left a spiderweb of cracks in the marble floor and rolled away without the slightest scratch or chip.

The crowd stared at the demolished stage. A groan came from the window frame, and a slender young stallion stood up from the wreckage. His knees wobbled, and he slid down to the floor. The guests backed away at first, then circled around.

A second figure burst up from the wreckage, stalwart and unshaken. The crowd gasped as she tossed her fiery mane and glared down at the stallion.

“It’s The Lens!”

“It’s really her?! Unbelievable!”

“What’s she doing here?”

“I thought she’d be older!”

Spectacles ignored the cries from the crowd and marched to the dazed stallion, who was looking at the surrounding crowd with a wobbly smile. He wasn’t wearing his grey burglar’s costume, and his hat and cloak were gone. Instead, he was dressed in a formal suit that had been torn to shreds during the chase. His saddlebags were a tattered mess and his clockwork wings disintegrated into wreckage as he stood.

“Hey everypony!” he said in a calm, resonant voice. “Did I miss the party?”

Spectacles called out in a booming voice. “Hearts.”

The dashing young stallion turned to her, suddenly sober. “What did you call me?”

Spectacles’ tone captured the crowd’s full and undivided attention. “Mister Hearts’n’Arrows. You are hereby under arrest for two hundred and twelve counts of trespassing on private property. Forty-three counts of trespassing on royal property. Seventy eight counts of impersonating an agent of the crown or a member of the nobility. Ninety counts of identity theft. Twelve counts of providing dishonest information to the royal licence and registration department. Three hundred and sixteen counts of grand larceny... and for conspiracy to steal the crown jewels of her royal highness, Princess Celestia.”

The crowd gasped in astonishment, and Celestia herself looked on with worry. The royal courier and Lady Silvy floated beside their beloved princess, surrounded by a nimbus of golden light. They each opened one eye and stared at the demolished stage where they’d been standing mere seconds ago.

The Magpie shook his mane and spoke out. “I resent that last accusation!”

Spectacles arched an eyebrow. “What possible defense could you have against such a charge?”

He lifted his nose. “A ‘conspiracy’ involves more than one pony. I don’t need any help.”

One of the guests called out in shock, “That’s the Magpie! It’s really him!” and the crowd broke into a cacophony of gasps and shouts.

The royal guards began filing in through the main entrance. Captain Ironsides marched at the front of the group, carrying a pair of heavy leg-irons.

“The Magpie. You are hereby under arrest for the—”

“Yeah, we went through all that.” The stallion nodded to Spectacles. “The flat-hoof over there beat you to it.”

Ironsides lifted the chains. “Sir. You’ll have to come with us.”

The Magpie turned to them with a glowing smile. Before he could say anything, an elderly mare burst out of the crowd and grabbed the captain’s leg, pleading tearfully.

“Please, I beg of you! He’s innocent! He must be! My sweet little colt would never do such a horrid thing! He-he just can’t be the Magpie! It just isn’t possible!”

“Ma’am. If you please.” Spectacles marched over and grabbed the Magpie’s long, flowing mane. The elaborate wig pulled away, revealing a cyan-and-navy buzz-cut.

The tearful mother recoiled with a gasp. “You’re not Swift Wind!”

Spectacles scrutinized the wig for a moment before stuffing it into an evidence bag. “Ma’am, I assure you your real son is perfectly safe. Wherever he is.”

“Poor Swifty can’t stand going to court functions,” The Magpie said with a sheepish smile. “I offered to switch places with him, and gave him a ticket to the dance party on twenty-third street.”

Spectacles frowned at him. “Ninety-one counts of identity theft.”

“That you know of,” he said with a smirk.

Ironsides clapped one of the manacles around his leg. “Son, I don’t think you understand the seriousness of your situation.”

“You don’t-hey!” He hopped in place on his free legs. “What are you doing? Get that away from me!”

“What do you think we’re doing?” said Ironsides. “We’re placing you under arrest.”

Hearts’n’Arrows shoved against him with a flurry of harmless slaps. They wrestled for a moment and when they finished the manacles were clapped around Ironside’s own legs.

“I can walk out of here by myself, thank you very much. There’s no need to be crude about it.”

“Nooo!” Another pony burst out of the wall of amazed onlookers: A tiny filly dressed in a ballgown that probably weighed as much as she did. “Fly away, Magpie! They’ll lock you up if you don’t! Fly away!”

A few other voices called out from the crowd, cheering him on. A chorus swelled, calling for the Magpie to ‘fly away.’ The guards could do nothing to quell the outpouring of sympathy. The crowd didn’t care that the Magpie was a hardened criminal, or that he might be dangerous. Spectacles merely stared at the stallion of the hour. He seemed bashful.

He called out a few times and the crowd finally fell quiet.

“Sorry, folks, but it’s over. She knows my name.” Hearts’n’Arrows looked to Spectacles. “Though I don’t know how she knew.”

“There were only so many people you could have been,” she said. “I’ve been carrying a shortlist of potential suspects for three years now. I’m sure that everypony else on that list will be relieved to learn that they are not you.”

Hearts’n’Arrows stared into her eyes with a faint smile. “Would you care to escort me to the holding carriage, mi’lady? You went through an awful lot of trouble, after all.”

Spectacles frowned at him and walked away. “Ironsides? He’s all yours.”