Gatecrash

He tried to reach out with his telepathy, to contact someone for help, but they were still deep below ground. Who would he reach out to? He feared any presence he might discover in the undercity. It struck him how few people he really knew on this world, how few people he had relationships with even across the entire Multiverse.

He brushed a lock of hair out of Emmara’s eyes. If there was a way to planeswalk away from here and carry Emmara with him, he would do that. They could flee Ravnica and live in peace somewhere beyond the boundaries of this plane, somewhere without guilds or monsters to stalk them. But she was not a planeswalker. Her nature did not permit her to leave.

For a fleeting moment, Jace considered leaving on his own, and he stifled that thought with shame. He had the power to travel to every dimension he could find, but she was the anchor. She tied him to this life on Ravnica.

He barely knew anything about her. For being able to peer inside others’ minds at will, he knew very little about people.

“Jace,” mumbled Emmara.

“Emmara.” He held her gently, supporting her head.

She craned her neck to look around the chamber, and winced. She lay back again and looked up at Jace through slits. “Tell me you killed him.”

“He almost killed me, but he fled. Are you all right?”

“I’m fine.”

“Your head is bleeding.”

“I’m fine, I said. You look worse than I do.”

“Well, I’m awfully good at giving you something to heal.”

Jace looked for a smile on Emmara’s face, but none came. She didn’t seem to have it in her. They went through the motions of recovery in silence: healing magic, the patching up of torn cloaks, and an assessment of their surroundings.

“Let’s get these bodies buried,” Emmara said. “They’ll draw attention.”

Jace and Emmara dragged the bodies of the Rakdos warriors into the sludgy puddles of the chamber. Emmara used nature magic to encourage moss and fungus to grow over the corpses. The slain cultists became a decomposing garden.

“Let’s get you back to the Conclave,” said Jace.

She nodded. There wasn’t much hope in her.

Jace looked into a passage that led away into darkness. “We’ll take the low tunnels for a while. It might actually be safer down here. I think a lot of people up there are looking for us.”

***

When Ral Zarek entered the aerie of his guildmaster, the dragon was looming over his blueprint, a three-dimensional model of Ravnica’s Tenth District that was made of streaks of pulsing light. The model was tiny compared to Niv-Mizzet’s bulk, and it made Ral think of a child peering into a dollhouse, the dragon’s great eye sweeping through the miniature streets, his face lit in purples and pinks by the thin edges of light that defined the space.

“You sent for me, Great Firemind?” said Ral Zarek, in lieu of clearing his throat.

The dragon didn’t budge from the model. His eye twitched, obsessively following threads of light through the map, tracing and retracing route after route.

“Well, I can tell you our status,” said Ral. “The Implicit Maze project is coming along well. We’ve succeeded in tracking down all but a few guildgates, and have even established some reliable connections between them. We only need to delve into the Orzhov territory, and then plumb the grottoes of the Simic. Then we should have performed enough experiments to discern the exact maze route. But we lost many soldiers, and I may have got a cyclops killed. So if I could have another regimen of mages and strongarms …”

The dragon looked up, lifted his mighty neck and spread his wings, but his eyes kept flicking back to the model.

“Guildmage Zarek,” said Niv-Mizzet, a flicker of flame escaping his teeth at the start of Zarek’s name. “You’ve been hard at work on our maze project, yes?”

“Yes, Guildmaster.” Ral stifled a sigh. “By your request, I’ve had teams of Izzet mages canvass the entire district and beyond. We’ve found braids of mana that flow in unusual patterns throughout the Tenth, which has helped us to establish the path between the ancient guildgates. And we’ve recovered a series of artifacts that will help us discern the exact ordering of gates. It won’t be long before we’ll have the answer. We will solve this maze for you.”

I will solve this maze for you, Ral thought.

But Niv-Mizzet had already become distracted. He coiled his tail around the glowing model of the district. “Time grows short,” said the dragon. “I have a new experiment for you to perform. A new venture of personal interest to me.”

“You’re taking me off the maze project?”

“In a sense.”

“But Guildmaster … we’re so close. I’m about to uncover the answer. And it’s so crucial to Izzet power.”

“Until it is solved, the maze remains my top priority. But a mind has opened itself up to me. I believe he can be of use.”

Someone else would intrude on his research, and on Niv-Mizzet’s attention. Ral shifted his weight from foot to foot. “I’m spending all day every day researching them. I will know the maze route in a matter of days, or weeks at the outside.”