I was both relieved and disappointed to see only zebras when we came into port. Changelings are not laborers, though, so it's no great curiosity. Before the hawsers were even in place I sighted brightly colored equines in the distance and so I slipped back into the Captain's cabin and donned my disguise.

So as to look the part of a sailor, I donned a raggedy red striped shirt with an oilskin that covered my cutiemark. On my head, a much abused straw hat and a short false beard.

"It won't hold up to a second glance." Windlass whispered to the Captain as I walked out on deck. Brass Belle was busy at the rail giving orders and assigning tasks and spared but a moment to look me over. True to Windlass' thought, she giggled when she looked again.

"You look like some Canterlot noble dressed for a costume party more than a sailor." She barked to Windlass to see to my ensemble and then returned to her task.

Windlass took me aside, on deck but out of the hustle and bustle, "Worn in clothes aren't going to do it if you don't look the part under them."

"Meaning?"

"Meaning you lack the filthy coat and ropy muscle of a veteran sailor. Maybe...yeah, I know. First thing, strip off that shirt, it's too hot here to be wearing it without drawing attention to yourself. I guess you're stuck with the raingear to keep your flank under wraps, but I'll see if I can scrounge up a newer hat so you look the part of a recruit. Stay here." When she came back she had a newer hat and a mound of something within it.

"What've you got there?"

"Sweepings."

It looked like dust and dirt, "Sweepings?"

Then she dumped the whole of it on my back and started patting it into the rest of me with her hooves. I made noises of protest, but she harshly shushed me and kept about her business, concentrating her efforts on my face, neck and shoulders. Then she beat the hat back out and plopped it on my grimy head. "Yeah, that might pass. At least you're not so conspicuous now."

I would have been grateful if I hadn't been planning on getting captured as swiftly as possible anyway. I was starting to wonder just how long Brass Belle meant to keep up her subterfuge as she quit her task to come and inspect me. She gave me the once over and nodded brusquely, "Aye, he's tolerable, I expect. Now, stick by me in case anything happens. Putting any bruising of male egos aside, I can talk my way out of most trouble and I can fight my way out of the rest. Your name will be...Coriander? Aye. Coriander'll do. You're a Canterlotian merchant trying to break into the trade. Don't say anything beyond a little small talk and we'll get by fine."

"What's coriander?" Asked Windlass.

"Yeah, what do I say when somepony asks me something like that?" I asked.

Brass Belle gave me a withering look, as if to say that I'd just asked the stupidest question there was, "You look at them as if they were fools, shake your head, and tell them it's a spice. No more than that. If they ask more, just act annoyed and pointedly ignore them." She looked to Windlass, gave her a level glare and replied, "Coriander's a spice."

"No, it's not, it's an herb." The ship's cook, a balding mule, hollered from his resting place against the main mast, "I just don't use it because you swine wouldn't know it from parsley."

Brass Belle threw her hooves up, "As if there was anypony in this backwater that would know the difference! Fine! You heard him, it's an herb. Now come on, we've got to meet with my contact." She turned to the mule who was whittling a point on a short stick for no conceivable reason, "And you, quit eavesdropping! Go check on the ship's stores or something."

The meeting with the Zebras was tedious in the extreme, but they had good tea and even better biscuits. If I hadn't been so set on trying to be gruff and laconic, I would have gleefully made a pig of myself. As it was, I was introduced and my only spoken words were in praise of the refreshments. The meeting was set in the Commander's former abode, as it had a large dining room built for just this sort of conference. The dark wooden beams and buff plaster walls had been maintained largely as their former occupant had left them, but certain tribal flourishes had found their way in. Grotesque masks, a tapestry of tiny shells on strings, a potted banana plant as well as a few bright flourishes of paint marked it's new tenants.

Aside from the unremarkable waitstaff, (one zebra and one pony who I assumed to be a changeling for the obvious reasons, as well as for the charm that hung about her neck, but I wasn't sure why she would be there if she were) there were three zebras with whom Brass Belle was conferring. One was old, fat and wrinkled. His stripes had faded to grey and their pattern made him look all the dumpier. To his left was a young zebra mare who occasionally spoke in rhyme, but mostly just took notes. I imagined her to be a neophyte heir, destined to rule whatever trading empire the older zebra now possessed. On his other side was a trim, fit zebra stallion about my age, and he was the one doing the talking. He seemed born to the role and could spiel non-stop about any subject.

Trouble was that it took three hours to come to the heart of the matter, "We simply cannot supply the quantity of beans you require."

"Why not?" Brass Belle demanded wearily, "If you're holding out for a higher price, I can assure you you'll not get it from me or any of my competitors. There's only so much margin in such trade."

"Certainly, certainly. It's not a lack of will, it's a lack of supply. We cannot, after all, go out in the forests and squeeze the civets until they produce the beans for you. Patience is required."

"Well how much can you sell me?" She sighed when he informed her that a little under a third of her requirement was all they could offer, to this she replied, "No dice." Rose, and walked out with an aggravated air of contempt about her. I scrambled to my hooves and followed her.

"Well that could have gone better." I looked to her sympathetically, "It looks like we wasted the whole trip down here."

She looked to me incredulously, "I guess you never traded with the zebras yourself, did you?"

"No, but what's that got to do with anything? If he hasn't got it to sell he hasn't got it."

"Look, when this is over and done with I'll get my full measure of cargo and pay a quarter, maybe a third more than my final offer. He and I are already aware of this, but that doesn't excuse us from dancing the dance all the way through." She pointed down the road, "Tonight we'll stay in that inn, I already had our baggage brought there, and in the morning we'll probably be informed by messenger, that young rhyming mare, that he happened to come across just enough beans to fill our order. If he's particularly gutsy he'll wait 'til we're ready to sail and inform us then. For the dance to work, though, we have to stick to the choreography. Step on your partner's hooves and they'll know you to be an amateur and tax you accordingly."

It was an inefficient way to go about it, but I must suppose she knew her business. It left us with an afternoon free and so we toured the town and shopped at the quaint zebra shoppes that had sprung up. They offered every manner of remedy, potion, spice as well as charming novelties, hoofmade and with the exotic charm of this striped continent. Brass Belle tried to insist upon buying me things, and indeed forced a finely knit, brightly striped shirt on me, for use when I wasn't trying to keep a low profile.

In the jewelry shop I found something I thought was fitting for her, and practical given my needs for the spell to have it's maximum effect. Though it had been recut into a heart shape and it's chain had been decorated with all manner of beading and woven wire, I recognized the mock fertility charm when I saw it and I snatched it up immediately and asked how much it was. The shopkeeper told me and I laid my bits down and took it.

"You didn't learn anything from what I was telling you earlier, did you? Have you never even heard of haggling?" She started, but I silenced her by hanging the charm around her neck. For the first time I'd seen, she blushed deeply and mumbled something I couldn't make out.

"What did you say?" I asked, leaning in.

She leaned to my ear and whispered, "Thank you, but you know that this is a fertility charm, don't you?"

Oh my, that's awkward, "Um, yeah, I guess I did. Is that okay? I didn't mean..."

"Oh, aye." She interrupted, once again at full volume, "I'm well pleased with it, perhaps we should cut our shopping trip short and take a bit of a break back at the inn."

I blushed, the zebra at the counter of the shop gave me a sly wink and Brass Belle grasped me by the hoof and dragged me after her.

I'll admit to it. I suppose I must. Indeed I slept with her, certain of her true form as I was and I'll likewise admit that it was glorious. I should like to say more, but it's really nopony's business but our own. In my defense, I'm not as quick on my hooves making excuses as she is and couldn't think of one that wouldn't seem contrived and risk outing my agenda. Also, I thought that after that night my life would likely be forfeit to changeling queen, crippled by her lack of transformative ability but no less dangerous, and in my apprehension I sought some release, the probability that it was with Chrysalis herself not withstanding.

These were things I thought of after. In the moment, it was Brass Belle herself to whom I made love, the idea of her if not the physical entity herself.

Well, buck it. Lonely stallions are weak stallions.

It's no revelation, really.

When the quarter moon rose high, I was stalking through the shadows. Across from my former residence I waited and watched, trying to deduce what I could by observation. The large house was dark and in poor repair, but a column holding the porch roof had been recently replaced and the roof had been shoddily rethatched, implying that though it was unused as a house, it needed to stay standing to protect what was beneath it. The library was very likely still there and if I entered it I would surely be caught. I had to remind myself that this was what I was after as I signaled to Brass Belle, who was hidden in another shadow, that I was going in, then I flitted across the street, sprang lightly up the stairs and slipped inside.

Inside, I paused for my eyes to adjust to the near total darkness and felt for the little quartz charm in my pocket. It was still there, safe. I knew the way like the back of my forehoof and made it down the broad stone steps and to the library door without even lighting my horn. I breathed deeply, trying to calm my racing heart, and just when I was about to turn and flee, my hoof betrayed me and opened the door, just a crack at first, then widely.

I don't know what I expected, but I certainly never envisioned this. The library was still there, though it had been altered somewhat. A rude throne sat opposite the formerly secret passage that led to the outside world. The four ancillary chambers had been unsealed and a steady stream of changelings were trailing and flitting between all points. The books were all shelved, but now the shelves were festooned with drones as well, hung as pendulous black fruit on an inside out tree. The whole assemblage had a makeshift look about it, as if it were all temporary, which was likely the case. I was noticed right away, but ignored. I'd grown used to that, but I'd thought my reception might be different this time around.

I walked out on the nearest balcony and inspected the nearest drone. He looked up at me disinterestedly as I absent mindedly patted him on the head and he chittered in an affectionately familiar way. He was wearing one of the quartz charms, even untransformed. I couldn't see for certain, but it looked like all of them were. So far, so good. As soon as Chrysalis showed up I could cast the spell and reap what retaliation may come. She didn't keep me waiting or disappoint.

Her entrance was pitch perfect. On the landing opposite of me, from behind a pair of drones and a stack of books she sidestepped, appearing to simply spring into existence in that moment. Her slitted green eyes locked onto my own, muzzle down as if to charge through the vacant air between us. A small, devious smile bloomed on her lips as she tilted her head back making her fangs her prominent feature. Her filmy wings spring open as she leapt towards me, crossing the void in a blink, and she landed light as a pegasus feather before me, her presence pushing me back against the wall to retain some semblance of personal space.

"So you've finally returned." She purred and raised a hoof to trace my jaw line, "I knew you would, though in truth I feared I might have to send somepony to whisper my virtues into your ear."

"Like Brass Belle?" I retorted.

She raised an eyebrow, "To whom do you refer?"

"You can't fool me. You know who, or were you the one playing her part?" She seemed wholly nonplussed by my accusation. She looked askance and one of her minions came over and chittered in her ear. She scrunched up her nose, paused for a moment, and whispered something back to him. Then they both burst out laughing.

"Oh, you've become paranoid, seeing us where we are not." She chuckled.

"Liar, it's far too convenient that she just happened along and was coincidentally headed right to your front door." I sneered and put my muzzle right in her face, "What kind of fool do you take me for?"

Sitting back on her haunches, her size making it difficult to stay on the balcony without tumbling off, she rolled her eyes and raised her hooves in a 'you caught me' gesture, "Well you certainly are a clever little pony, aren't you? I'd have never thought you'd have caught on. Still, all that means is that you came here of your own accord, so do you, or do you not want to be my chronicler?"

"No. I came here to destroy you, Chrysalis, so that you and your hive can never hurt anypony again." I had my hoof on the stone, ready to cast the spell if she even twitched. In truth, I don't know what was stopping me. Could it be that I really didn't want that?

"Well now, that's novel, at least, and while all things must end, I've some doubts that you're the one to end me after these many centuries."

"I will. I will destroy you and your entire hive once and for all." The steel in my voice quavered and I was just on the precipice of acting when she exhaled unhappily and turned away. I almost asked her what the matter was but she spoke first.

"Stay your hoof, little pony, and consider if that's really the course you wish to take. I cannot imagine it is. This mare, Brass Belle, loves you, I can sense that. You could live out a happy life with her, I'm certain. Be sure you want to throw that away for your petty and misguided vengeance."

"As if I'd be happy living my life with a rotating cast of drones playing the whore for me."

"That is not what I said, I've had nothing to do with this mare of yours. She's as much a pony as you are. You haven't become so mad as to question whether you yourself are a pony, yet, have you?" Her lips curled at her own joke, then fell abruptly, "If you want her, you had best act fast. I only want you here of your own volition, dedicated to the task at hoof, not pining for freedom or whatever slovenly hussy might be intrigued by a basketcase such as yourself. Run to her and I won't stop you. I know you'll be back in time. You have a book to finish, after all."

"You liar, you just admitted that you were her, why torment me like this? What do you even want from me?"

"Fool! Believe what you will, I want a chronicler, I have no designs on you further than that."

"I've seen what you can do, why not just brainwash me into doing what you want?" I demanded.

"Prose assembled by a stupefied pony will not do! I need you at the very height of your perceptive powers if you are to do me assemble the pieces and do me justice." She growled, "An incomplete work is worthless to me. I need a disinterested pony skilled enough to do the job, curious enough to do it properly and unafraid of me so that he might tell the truth. Anything less is contemptible rubbish!"

It finally occurred to me, "You mentioned that in your letter, so you've done this before, haven't you?"

"Yes."

"Where are the books? I've at least skimmed everything in the library, if there was something of that sort I'd know."

"In my chambers are the deeply flawed fruits of their labors as well as assorted rare tomes I value rather highly." She changed tact, "Surely, if you are going to take revenge against me and you are truly capable, you can do so at any time. Correct? Work for me again, finish your work and I'll let you have the run of my personal library as well as your freedom to come and go as you please, to roam as far and wide as you like so long as you stay in my employ."

"I don't know." I said, and I didn't. She seemed so honest and vulnerable, but she was a master manipulator by nature, so how was I to believe her even now?

"I can give you anything you want." She stated, not as if she were begging but rather as if it were a simple truth, and it probably was, except that what I wanted was my wife and foal back, maybe Brass Belle, the real one, if there even was a real one, but I'd never be sure of that either. Wasn't it lucky that she'd happened to be just where I needed her to be, going right to my hometown when I'd first met her? She could have been a put on from the very beginning. From what I'd read, such things were beyond neither Chrysalis' morals or her capabilities.

After I thought through and rejected all the possibilities, there was nothing she could give that I valued, she tried, regardless, "Power? I can put a kingdom below your hooves. Canterlot itself would not be out of the question, and what of treasure? My people have no interest in it and we have hordes that would make the king of the dragons jealous squirreled away. Mares? Real ones even, it could be done as easily as asking."

"I do want to finish my work. It's a rather pressing need, I admit, but why what possible reason could you have to value my efforts so highly as all that? It doesn't make sense, and if it doesn't look like a fair trade, it probably isn't, so why?"

She growled in annoyance, "I told you in my letter, bared my soul and deepest fear and you still don't see? My memory is that of a mortal while this body lives on indefinitely. Our selves are nothing but the stories of the life we've lived and when we lose them we lose ourselves. I need a record, well and diligently kept to remind me of who I've been and what I've done. I've lost so much of myself already, maybe irrevocably, but that's not a good enough reason to give it up as futile. Rather it makes it all the more important to save what's left of what I am, salvage the knowledge of what I've been, what my children have been." She gestured an ebon hoof towards her industrious brood as they flitted about, pretending to be disengaged while eavesdropping in a rather obvious manner, "I remember once, long ago, each of my subjects had a name, though I've forgotten what they were, or even if I named them, but the years went by and one by one they died. When the last of my subjects was buried my heart was broken. I've never saddled my children with names ever since. Thousands, hundreds of thousands, maybe more, have come and gone and I remember but brief snippets of each life. Their lives, too, go unrecorded and their bodies rejoin the hive uncelebrated. For them I need to know where I have been that I may more clearly discern where I am meant to go and what purpose beyond mean subsistence we are meant to serve."

"What if it turns out you're simply destined for evil? Creatures of chaos? You yourself seem to acknowledge that possibility and a great many actions you've taken seem to point in that direction." Such as all the kidnapping and manipulation, I thought.

"Even that would be a help. It's impossible to embrace or reject a nature you're never truly certain of, don't you agree?"

"I think it's unlikely that you're going to become upstanding citizens as a result of my efforts to sort out your existential crisis." I said dryly.

She mulled it over and eventually gave a full body shrug, her diaphanous wings rustling in the now silent hive. The drones all stood statue still, heads cocked and ears perked to hear my decision.

Having exhausted her line of reasoning, she yet again shifted her approach, "What of the fact that you don't belong anywhere anymore? You're too paranoid to blend into normal society while changelings still exist, and you'll never truly believe you're rid of us, even if you trampled us under your own hooves, were you capable of such a feat. Here you will at least be respected, an equal, and your work will be cherished for so long as I might live by me and every drone who reads it. There you're just a nutty old washed up professor spewing conspiracy theories."

She was, as she usually is, right, and I was tired of arguing. More than that, in my haste to accede and turn it into one, I realized that I'd been wishing she'd produce an ultimatum I couldn't refuse. It was a revelation that she'd already been fully cognizant of. All angst and moral quibbling aside, this was what I really wanted, even if I was a masochist or pathetic foal for it, "Fine, but I want the freedom you promised me, and a stipend. There's libraries elsewhere that I'll need to look into."

"Done."

"Also, I want Lucy, Bub and Squeaky, if she's okay with it, on my research team."

"Not a problem."

"Lastly, I have no way to enforce it save annihilation, but I want a solemn promise from you that you'll tell me the real and honest truth from now on."

"Most certainly, I have no need or desire to lie to you of all ponies."

"Good, then tell me, was there ever any real pony named Brass Belle?" I demanded.

Chrysalis looked warily over to her drones as if to consult with them, then back to me. She sighed, held her holey hoof over her black heart and told me, "No, of course not, we fabricated her from whole cloth just to ensnare you."

"I thought as much." I said and tucked away the charm that had been primed for their destruction. In the end I almost respected them for their dedication to artifice. They'd gone to such a great effort right to the end that I nearly believed I'd been mistaken about Brass Belle.

Later, when my manuscript had been retrieved and I'd been installed in the cottage that sat over the pinnacle of the hive, I chanced to see the extent of their dedication. From the uppermost window of the cottage I could clearly see the docks, and down upon them stood the distant figure of Brass Belle, taking one last look at the town before boarding her laden down ship, a load of freshly excreted coffee beans most certainly in it's hull. At her side I walked, and as the gangplank was pulled in the two of them shared a passionate kiss.

As they sailed away, the I that was on the deck turned and waved as if to me directly and so I waved back, though I knew I could not see it, goodbye to myself.

Goodbye.

Goodbye.