Gatecrash

Rakdos’s great claw emerged from the gloom again, and Exava flinched. But the claw handed to her two shining, serrated swords. His face appeared above her, grinning by lava-light.

Exava took them in wonder, trying to appreciate the purpose of this gift. “They must slice through flesh like no other blades ever forged,” said Exava.

“Not at all,” boomed Rakdos.

Exava stuck out her lip and regarded the blades. “Then … they must be enchanted to cause searing pain at the slightest touch.”

“Nothing of the kind.”

“Then … what?”

“Have you no use for swords that cut chains?” asked Rakdos. He waited for an answer.

Exava’s reaction was slow. But then a zigzag smile spread across her face. “Oh, thank you, Master,” she said gaily, and spun on her heels, a sword in each hand.

She appeared in the hallway, and the freaks snapped at her, links of heavy iron chain securing them to the wall.

“Time we start a riot,” she said.

One by one, she sliced through the shackles, releasing the slavering spikers and cultists. One by one, the imps and warriors formed up behind her, grabbing weapons and snarling in sadistic delight. One by one, she enlisted her soldiers of chaos, and their howls sang Berrim’s name.

***

Jace walked through the tunnels ahead of Emmara, listening to the way her footsteps made little splashes on the dank floor and the wet sound bounced around him.

“I’m sorry,” he said, glancing over his shoulder.

“For what?”

“When you sought me out, I know you weren’t looking to get in the middle of all this. Trouble just seems to follow me around.”

“Yes, it does,” she said. “You are a vortex of trouble. Always have been, as long as I’ve known you. But it’s not just you. Things are bad up there. I’ve been around for a long time, and the guilds have never been this tense. Kidnappings. Territorial attacks. Killings. And it’s going to get worse.”

“And through it all, you’ve kept me safe.”

“I’m glad you’re safe,” she said. “It was worth it.”

“If I hadn’t ruined my own memories, I could be of more help.”

“No. You were doing the same thing I was. You were taking steps that you thought would keep us safe. Paying the cost.”

“Once we get you back to the Conclave, once Trostani knows you’re alive, maybe we can put an end to all this. Defuse these guild tensions. You’ll be an example for peace. We’ll show them how the Selesnya don’t retaliate, even against the Rakdos.”

Emmara smiled. “That sounds nice.”

They walked through the undercity, climbing staircases when they came upon them, making their way toward sunlight.

“Hey, Emmara?”

“Yes?”

“Remember that carved leaf you gave me? The artifact, to use to contact you?”

“Yes.”

“Did it work?” he asked. He wanted to ask: Did you hear the words, “I need you?”

“Yes. I heard it. I was preoccupied with my Rakdos captors at the time, but I heard it.”

“All right, good,” said Jace. “Just making sure.”

He was walking ahead of her, and he didn’t look back to see her face, to know what, if anything, those words meant to her. But he felt a warmth in his chest, just knowing that she had heard them.

UNFAMILIAR DEPTHS

In print, the words looked formal, inescapable, and undeniably official.

“Notice of Change of Assignment.”

Officer Lavinia’s spirits sagged. The letter seemed to be taunting her in its gleaming blue print. It listed her greatest honor—ultimate responsibility for the enforcement of law for the whole of the Tenth District—under “Previous Position.” Under “New Position” it said merely, “Supervisory Official, New Prahv.”

She knew it was more than a change of assignment. It was a demotion, a punishment for her failure to capture Beleren. For that, she was effectively jailed in her own guildhall, chained to her post by her own strict compliance with guild law. She knew that meanwhile, Beleren walked free.

Before her guildmaster, the sphinx Isperia, assigned her to the towers of New Prahv, Lavinia had never spent much time in her office. The chair and desk were utilitarian but beautiful pieces of furniture, and her pen set gleamed under the luminous sphere that hovered near the vaulted ceiling. Everything around her had been designed to rigid specifications. But to her, nothing was perfect but walking the streets of the Tenth. Nothing could approach the sound of her boots clacking against pavement, the scent of a crisp morning dawning after a night’s patrol, the feeling of a suspect’s cheek mashing against the cobblestones.

The hardest part to take was that she had no way to track down Beleren from inside the towers. Kavin’s visit had given her fresh motivation to capture the mind mage. Kavin had been with the Azorius years ago, and had been as fine a lawmage as any she had encountered—so when he came to her, his mind invaded and altered by this man Beleren, her imprisonment had become too much.