Jace lashed out with magic that would incapacitate the Azorius officers, but they only frowned their stern frowns at him. His spell had failed. One of them must be a lawmage, and they must have dampened spells in the area already—exactly what he would have done if he thought a mind mage would be here.
“Suspect Jace Beleren,” said the Azorius officer, bringing her hands together to form a tight spiral of glowing magical runes. “Your actions meet a reasonable definition of resistance, and the use of magical force has become authorized. Come with us, now.” She stepped toward Jace. “Your compliance is obligatory.”
Jace was out of time and out of options. It was time to give himself up. But instead he found himself dashing for a window on the opposite end of the hallway of the inn. He launched himself against the pane, breaking through onto an upper-story rooftop. He rolled down a length of sloping roof, dropped onto a lower platform, rolled down another shingled slope, and fell half a story into a stand of bushes. He stumbled out, spitting out a mouthful of brambles.
Jace expected to see Azorius officers already in the back of the inn, but instead he saw huge feet. As he scanned upwards, the feet turned out to be connected to muscular, tree-trunk legs, which were in turn attached to a massive body that blocked his path. The ogre that stared down at him did so from two angles, due to the fact that it possessed two heads. One of the two-headed ogre’s forearms had been replaced by, or possibly upgraded with, a massive prosthetic axe, and crude clan tattoos ran up and down his limbs.
“It’s you,” said one of the ogre’s heads, with a guttural grunt.
“It’s him,” agreed the other head, the words rumbling through his tusks.
Jace did not have time to process this. He scanned for exits, but the Azorius caught up with him, streaming around the building and closing in on his position. Their numbers had increased, but when they caught sight of the two-headed ogre, they hesitated. Each of the brute’s heads looked back and forth with a pair of sneers, a deep growl rumbling in their chest.
“I am Officer Lavinia of the Tenth,” said the Azorius officer, the same woman who had confronted him upstairs. “Jace Beleren, you are under arrest by the authority of Supreme Judge Isperia and of the governorship of New Prahv. You, citizen,” she added, indicating the ogre, “will stand back at this time and not interfere.”
Jace scanned the ring of armored Azorius officers and lawmages. None of this was helping him find Emmara, but he could see no way out. He walked forward, wrists out, and the leader Lavinia took him into custody simply by putting her hand on his shoulder. Her touch was cold through the material of his cloak, and made him feel instantly sluggish and compliant. If he had had any fight left, it was leaving him quickly.
At this, the ogre strode right up to Lavinia and headbutted her with both of his heads simultaneously, clanging against her helmet from two directions.
As Lavinia collapsed, he Azorius lawmages hurled their restraining spells at the massive ogre, but they barely slowed the brute down. Soldiers moved in to engage the double ogre with sword and spear, but one swing of his axe cut them down, sending their armored bodies clattering like tin cans.
With the Azorius leader down and the entire unit distracted, Jace took a tentative step to the side, angling for a way out of the fray. The ogre roared with both heads, and slammed another Azorius soldier against the wall. Jace gave a momentary thought to helping this fortuitous ogre warrior, but thought the better of it, and slipped away in the confusion of the melee.
Jace put the Cobblestand Inn and the wrecked shell of the building that had been his sanctum behind him, and struck out into the Tenth. As he walked, he played out the scene in his mind, trying to retrace his steps and recover what happened before he awoke. He watched himself awaken on the floor, touch the wound on his head, and look up to see the innkeeper standing over him. The moments before that were black, empty—just a roaring nothingness. It was as if a sheaf of days had been ripped out of him by force.
Jace found an empty alleyway and staggered into it. He made his way into a kind of an urban cave, walled by tall brick buildings and wooden bins of refuse. He slammed his back against the brick and let himself slide to the ground. He brought his hood up over his head and brought his knees in toward him, as if to bring every part of him as close as possible to his own center of gravity. If he could become small, he thought, he could fall through the cracks somehow. Everyone could ignore him, and he could believe that none of this was real.