Gatecrash

“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.”