Gatecrash: The Secretist, Part Two (6 page)

Lavinia looked up at him. Jace gave her an opportunity to speak, but she said nothing.

“Now’s when you ask, ‘What did you lose?’ ” Jace said. “And I explain the strange situation I’m in.”

A smile of realization spread across Lavinia’s face. “Don’t tell me. You lost your memories.”

“How did you know?”

“And the Dimir were after them? That is a predicament you’ve got yourself into. And now you don’t even know what it is you’ve lost.”

“That’s about the sum of it. Your investigation told you all this?”

“Unfortunately, no. Kavin did.”

“Kavin came to
you?
When?”

“He gave me something.” Lavinia produced a sheaf of scribbled notes, but she hid them against her chest. “He managed to save some information as you were destroying his memories.”

“May I see that?”

“Sorry. It’s evidence in your case, I’m afraid.”

“Officer Lavinia. Unless I recover what I’ve lost, people will die. Including, I think, Emmara Tandris.”

“As I remind you, you’re a suspect in a crime. Including the abduction of Emmara Tandris. Now it sounds like you’re threatening her.”

Jace took a deep breath. “I seek the same thing you do, Officer Lavinia. We should be on the same side.” Jace nodded at the notes spread out across Lavinia’s desk. “You’ve been doing research of your own. These
are from your archives, aren’t they? Can you at least let me in on what you’ve found?”

“Please, make a move for them. Or use your mind tricks—go ahead. You’ll see what kind of magic an Azorius official has in her own office.”

“No one’s forcing. I know your guild’s expertise with wards and safeguards. All I’m doing is asking a favor, and then I’ll be on my way.”

“No, you’re asking me to help you spread lies. I studied the archives. All I found was dusty old architectural plans. Some patterns, sure, if you’re looking for them. But it’s all just a matter of coincidence, unless you’re conspiracy-minded—or are looking to take advantage of those who are. It’s circular logic. You’re using these secrets to convince people to believe in secrets. It’s all for show.”

“And yet I ripped out my own memories to keep safe such secrets.”

“A trick—and a cruel one, when it came to Kavin. I’ve seen your kind before, Beleren. I’ve seen a hundred guild-hating demagogues like you. You use people. You lure them in with promises and lies, and then when they’re no longer useful to you, you dispense with them.”

“We thought it would be safer if he didn’t know.”

“Did you both think that, or just you? But it’s not just him. You’re a danger to this entire district and all the people in it. You sent that two-headed Gruul brute on that wild crusade—do you know how many people he’s injured? How many he’s killed?”

“Ruric Thar?” Jace had been in contact with the Gruul ogre when he was at the Cobblestand. And it was mind-to-mind contact. The ogre could have information related to his lost memories. It was a thin lead.

“He and his Gruul thugs have visited the guildgate of every guild multiple times,” said Lavinia. “Smashed through platoons of guards, shrugging off magic designed especially to stop him. My own Azorius have lost six to his rampage. And he keeps coming back for more. Trails of bodies crisscrossing the district. And it’s ever since you hired him, Beleren.”

“Do you have information on his whereabouts?”

Lavinia sighed. “We’ve lost track of him. He could be anywhere. But as I said, he’s been hitting all the guildgates.” She turned back to the shelf behind her desk and consulted her station book, then whirled back to her desk. “We might know more by tomorrow. I—”

But when she turned back, Jace had made himself gone.

Ral Zarek rode in the back of an enclosed vehicle of mizzium metal, propelled by a combination of elemental energies and one strong, harnessed cyclops. He and his team of Izzet mages, including Skreeg the goblin, had been crisscrossing the Tenth District for days, following the routes they had discovered from Beleren’s sanctum. The inside of the Izzet jalopy was covered with maps of the district, sheets of Ral’s own notes, and the stink of days of travel.

No single solution suggested itself. Beleren’s research had only narrowed down the potential paths to a dozen or so orderings of the guildgates, and Ral’s own study of latent threads of mana had narrowed it down to three paths. “What’s stopping us from trying them all?” he had asked himself. Maybe the fact that the gates were miles apart, in some of the
most dangerous areas of the district, many of them actively guarded by horrifying monsters and traps. Maybe that was what was stopping them.

The vehicle came to a halt at the Forum of Azor, a wide, circular public space near the center of the Tenth. According to legend it was established by Azor, the founder of the Azorius Senate, as neutral ground where the guilds could meet and discuss matters of law. A set of kiosks representing each guild encircled a central hub. Guild representatives manned the kiosks, providing information and broadcasting recruitment slogans to unguilded passersby.

Ral and Skreeg got out of their vehicle and looked around the Forum.

“Where does it lead next?” asked Ral.

Skreeg touched a dial on his gauntlet. The gauntlet exploded, blasting the goblin’s arms and face with a fine shrapnel of mizzium metal. He blinked and coughed a puff of smoke. “According to my readings, it ends here,” he croaked.

“What?” said Ral. “This is it? This is the end of the maze?”

“Conclusive,” said Skreeg, knocking the side of his head. Pieces of brassy metal fell from his large ear. “There’s a trove of incredible power here. The braids of mana terminate at the hub of the Forum.”

Ral felt nothing—nothing like the greatness he expected to find. “So, why aren’t I surging with previously untapped mystical power? Why hasn’t great knowledge opened itself up to me? Why aren’t I emperor of Ravnica?”

“Is that what should happen?” asked Skreeg.

“We followed the route!”

“We followed
a
route.”

“No,” said Ral. “This was the final combination, the
third of the three potential paths. One of them should have been the correct route. We should have solved it.”

Skreeg put his hand out. “Well then, congratulations on an experiment well performed!”

Ral scoffed. “We’re not done,” he said “There’s more to this than what we’ve found.”

“Will we be reporting this result to the Firemind, then?” Skreeg asked.

Ral looked at the goblin’s face, all explosion-crisp and cheerful. He scanned around the Forum of Azor, resenting the civilians who milled about the space, and wanting badly to absorb the potential he knew must be lurking here.

When Emmara arrived at home, two centaurs loyal to the Selesnya were posted at her door. A squad of archers patrolled the rooftop garden of her building. It was a waste of effort, she thought. Since Trostani had taken an interest in her and she had begun doing more work for the guild, she barely lived there anymore.

She tried the door, but it was locked. “What’s this?” she asked one of the centaur guardians.

“I can open that for you, ma’am,” said the centaur, producing a set of keys and unlocking the door. “Captain Calomir commanded that all dignitaries of the guild be under constant protection.”

“I’m not even in there.”

“The captain is concerned about security, ma’am.”

“Indeed I am.” Calomir came from around the other side of the house, and caught up to her at the door. He wore his usual charming grin as well as he wore that soldier’s uniform. He held the door open for her. “A
moment, Miss Tandris?”

“What’s all this? This was your idea?”

Emmara stepped in, and Calomir closed the door behind them. The house’s familiar smells of wood and herbs were almost covered by the smell of Calomir’s oiled boots and steel sword. She could hear the shuffling of footsteps of the Selesnya sentries on the roof.

“Would you believe it’s Trostani’s?”

Emmara wasn’t sure she did believe him. “Soldiers
on
my
house
, Calomir. What are we becoming? It’s giving the guild the wrong message. I’ve only lived here for a short time, and now I’m singled out, treated differently from the rest of the Conclave. Treated like a prisoner.”

“We just want to keep you safe.” He leaned against Emmara’s kitchen table, a solid piece of oak that had been woodshaped by Selesnya mages. “And I think a strong Selesnya army sends a good message.”

“Since when? I don’t like this belligerent streak in you.”

“Emmara, you were
taken
. You, a Selesnya dignitary, were kidnapped by the Rakdos. We can’t do nothing.”

“Those warriors had no agenda. They were drunk on their obsession with their demon—they would have done anything their superiors told them. And as Jace said, I think the Dimir were behind it somehow.”

Calomir’s condescending smirk irritated her. It was the one he gave before he broke bad news to her. He took her hand in his and patted it. “My dear, you’re a true force for peace. But the world is changing. The Izzet have expanded their experimentation. There have even been squads of Izzet mages threatening our sacred guildgate. The Orzhov have been buying spies and mercenaries from the outer districts. The
Simic have been massing an army of their twisted hybrid monsters. A squad of Gruul warriors has been crisscrossing the district, ignoring guild borders. Tensions are high.”

“Which is exactly why we have to reach out to the other guilds—now, before this hysteria goes too far. We have to learn to understand them.
You
used to say that.”

Calomir released her hand. “So you sought out
him
.”

“Jace? Yes. My
friend
. Are we actually going to fight about this?”

“He’s a strange one, that’s all. He’s an unguilded mind mage. Isn’t that dangerous?”

“He has unique gifts, Calomir. He can see through all the bickering, the masks, the walls we put up between our guilds. He can unify us. We came to this guild because we believe in unity, didn’t we? I still believe in that, and I believe in his potential. But I’m starting to believe you don’t believe in mine.”

Calomir snorted. “Do you actually believe the nonsense he was saying? He all but accused me of treason to my own guild.”

Calomir shook his head. “I’m concerned for your safety. Listen, Trostani is waiting for me. I just want to know one thing about this Jace. You sought him out to help our cause. So how much does he know about the … conflict between the guilds? The Izzet’s secret project?”

Emmara sighed. “Well, he knows … he knows nothing, now. He got deeply into it, apparently, but then he took himself out again. He used magic to destroy his own memories about it. That’s what he was doing when the Rakdos attacked us.”

“And he hasn’t been able to learn anything more since? He doesn’t have any other sources of
information?”

“Not that I know of. He destroyed all his research. I don’t think he can help us now.”

Calomir nodded. “Stay here. Get some rest. You’ve been through a lot.” He leaned in to kiss her.

She gave him a peck on the lips, and watched him leave between the guards flanking her door.

The Gruul Clans were usually found huddled in the cracks of civilization. They were a guild with a conspicuous and time-whittled chip on its shoulder, seething from their eviction from a long-extinct wilderness, perennially regarded as brutes and uncivilized throwbacks by the other guilds. The Gruul had come under control on Ravnica long ago, cowed by rules and bounded by fences, just as nature had been. But their memories were long and resilient, and a fire raged in their hearts.