Return to Ravnica

Something caught in his mind like a hook. Someone in this room held a connection to Jace in some way. He couldn’t see Emmara exactly—but it was as if he were hearing echoes of a familiar voice bouncing back at him in shreds of memory. It was all he had to go on. Jace walked toward the back of the room on instinct, seeking the farthest wall from the exit, and the impression of connection grew stronger. There a woman sat at a table alone. She wore a dark leather outfit decorated with barbed hooks. Jace could see vertical lines slicing down across eyes the color of fire—whether they were makeup or scars, he couldn’t tell. She grinned wickedly as Jace approached.

“You look lost, sugar beet,” she said.

“I’m looking for someone,” said Jace. “A friend of mine. An elf woman of the Selesnya guild. What do you know about that?”

“We’re all looking for something, pet. Look around you. All tastes can be indulged here. Why don’t you stop searching and enjoy yourself?”

“I’m not in the mood to play.”

“Such a shame. You’re in the wrong place. Why don’t you go and let the rest of us have a good time.”

Jace slammed his fist on the table. At the same moment, he flashed an image of Emmara into the woman’s mind. “You’ve seen her, haven’t you?” he demanded.

The Rakdos woman blinked in surprise, and then the surprise became anger. “Who let you in here?”

Jace opened himself to the woman’s mind, letting her emotions wash over him, reading her reaction to seeing Emmara’s face. The woman recognized her; that much was clear. For the briefest moment, he saw a flash of the woman leading a group of Rakdos warriors to the Cobblestand Inn. He saw them rush into the building, hooting and brandishing weapons. If Jace had just a little more time, he could look deeper and find out more, maybe even learn where they took Emmara. But the woman sensed his magic. She stood, knocking over her chair, and grabbed a gnarled staff from behind the table. Her eyes blazed and her lips curled into something like a smile. “You’re out of your depth, boy. You think you can make demands in here? Do you know who I am?”

With that, she shrieked, and the shriek became shrill, insane laughter. All heads in the club turned toward them as the beaded curtain parted, and the enormous spiker appeared, ready with his mace.

“I was hoping you’d start something,” grunted the spiker.

With that, a spotlight shone down on the platform in the center of the room. The giant Rakdos warrior picked up Jace and heaved him into the spotlight, where grim-looking guild performers encircled the stage, aiming spears and jagged blades at him.

“Ladies and gentlemen,” crooned the flame-eyed woman, swinging her staff around to all assembled.

“Exava!” cheered the crowd of gathered assassins, cultists, and jovial drunks.

“We’d now like to direct your attention to the main stage!”

All eyes were on Jace. The crowd welcomed the new volunteer act with a chorus of cheers and raised glasses. Exava moved toward him, expertly working the crowd with her booming voice. She was a blood witch, Jace realized. She wasn’t just a bar server or even a guild ringleader. She was a high sorcerer of the Cult of Rakdos.

“Our star is a young mage with dreams of fame, who came to the Rough Crowd looking for his big break!”

The audience laughed. Jace didn’t like the way she said “break.”

“What do you say, folks?” yelled the blood witch Exava, gesturing animatedly. “Shall we give him what’s coming to him?”

Cheers and hoots, including some lurid suggestions on what his act should entail.

“Run him through with a loxodon’s tusk!” Laughter.

“Make him eat his own feet!” More laughter.

In all the chaos, Jace couldn’t concentrate to scan Exava’s mind for information. Instead he scanned for exits. He would have to leap clear of the ring of Rakdos freaks around him, then get to the rear door, which was currently blocked by the spiker brute. Or he could try to get back to the beaded curtain, but it was blocked by onlookers.

“What’s your name, boy?” Exava asked him.

“I go by Berrim,” he said.

“I go by Berrim,” she mimicked, eliciting more crowd approval.

This was going badly. Jace had little time. He knew that the Rakdos were impulsive and dangerous, as sudden and unpredictable as crocodiles. It wouldn’t do to out-think them. He had to out-impulse them.

“Well, I-Go-by-Berrim, it’s our tradition here at Rough Crowd to let the audience choose the nature of the star’s performance.”

“I’ll save you all the trouble.”

With a whirl, Jace threw illusions of exploding pyrotechnics up around the stage as columns of curling smoke enveloped Jace in bluish fumes. The Rakdos guards around the stage reached in to feel for where he had been. Their hands grabbed at ankles, and they dragged a figure out.