Gatecrash

Jace couldn’t help it. As Calomir shook his hand, Jace conjured a quick spell to skim the elf’s mind. He wanted to find something wrong with the man, something to validate Jace’s suspicious gut feelings.

To his surprise, Jace’s spell failed. It was like an arrow bouncing off the walls of an impregnable fortress. His mind magic didn’t even penetrate into the elf’s surface thoughts.

Jace squeezed the man’s hand and pulled him close, chest to chest, looking straight into his eyes. He tried the mind magic again. But there was nothing. The elf’s mind was unreadable, invisible to Jace’s inner senses, a dark space. Jace could not even perceive a stray thought.

Calomir’s lips were a slender line, curving up slightly at the edges.

Only a few beings had ever been able to keep Jace out this completely, and they were beings of immense power. An unreadable mind didn’t happen by accident—it was magic sought out by those who had secrets to hide.

“What are you?” asked Jace.

“Jace,” said Emmara.

Calomir arched an amused eyebrow.

“I can’t read him,” Jace said. “I’m getting nothing from his mind. Why can’t I read him?”

Emmara was incredulous. “Jace, you are a guest here. Stop this at once. I’ve known Calomir for decades, and you’re making an ass of yourself.”

Jace released his grip with Calomir, but didn’t take his eyes off of him. “He is not who he says he is.”

“Jace,” snapped Emmara. “You are as wrong as you’ve ever been.”

“Come, my friend,” Calomir said to him. “You’ve outstayed your welcome. I’ll escort you to the guildgate.”

A thought occurred to Jace like a lightning bolt. “Don’t attack the Rakdos,” he said to Trostani. “Don’t. That’s what they want.”

Trostani’s voices alternated as they condemned Jace. “If you were part of the Selesnya, I might take your advice to guide our policy. As it is, Captain Calomir has been a loyal warrior and advisor to me for years.”

That was it. They were going to attack the Rakdos, at Calomir’s recommendation. This man with the impenetrable mind had the ear of the Selesnya guildmaster, and a relationship with Emmara. Jace could feel something click, but couldn’t see the whole picture—if only he still had those memories. He only knew that Emmara was in the center of a mass of tentacles, and they were tightening their grasp on her.

“I think you’re in danger here,” Jace said. “Come with me.”

“No, Jace,” said Emmara. “My guild needs me. Of course I’m staying here.”

Calomir smiled and shook his head, looking more amused than indignant.

Trostani’s treelike body straightened, and all three of the dryads crossed their arms. “Captain Calomir’s service to the Conclave began long before you were born, human. We will not abide this insult to our guild, nor tolerate your presence in our grove. You may leave the way you came.”

Jace looked to Emmara, but her face was sharp as a blade, severing the threads between them. He reached into his cloak. “Take this,” he said, pressing the carved Selesnya leaf into her hands. “Just in case. In case you need me.”

He didn’t even know if the trinket would do anything. Emmara just looked at him, the leaf in her hands, speechless.

“Let’s go, human,” said Calomir, taking Jace’s arm.

***

The site was torched to the ground. Ral Zarek pushed over a charred piece of retaining wall with his foot, and it crumbled to dust. The brick corners of the building still stood, like a strange quartet of parentheses around the site, but everything else had burned or collapsed.

If the Great Firemind wanted more information on this mystery man, he was going to be disappointed.

The Izzet goblin Skreeg scratched his head, leaving streaks of ash on his cheek. “Maybe this is the wrong place?” he asked hopefully.

“The neighbors seemed convinced,” said Ral. “This is where our man spent his time.”

“The fire might not have destroyed everything,” said Skreeg. “We could check under the ash, see if anything survived.”

“The Azorius and the Boros have already been over this site looking for clues, too. There’ll be nothing left.”

“Maybe there’s something they missed,” said Skreeg.

Skreeg’s optimism chafed him. But the only alternative Ral could think of was to end his search and return to Niv-Mizzet empty-handed. “I guess we try. We’re looking for written materials: research papers, maps, notes.”

Skreeg shook his fist excitedly. He activated his mizzium gauntlet and dived into a nearby pile of ash to root around for treasures. Ral strolled among the ash piles and broken, charred beams. The floorboards had burned in places, revealing a shallow cellar space under the main floor. Ral leaned down and thrust his hand into the dark gap, letting arcs of lightning play between his fingers to light the space. But there was still nothing. Whoever had destroyed this place had been brutally thorough.