Agents of Artifice: A Planeswalker Novel

by Ari Marmell

  Jace’s mouth twitched. No, he didn’t buy it. Her plans were too complex, her need too immediate, to gamble everything on an organization that might help her find an answer.

  But at the moment, he chose not to press. There were other answers he wanted—needed—first.

  “All right,” he said thoughtfully, replaying it all in his mind. “You heard about me, about my leaving the Consortium. And you decided I could do what you needed done.”

  She nodded. “Even if I thought I was strong enough to take on Tezzeret, I couldn’t take him and Baltrice and his guards all alone. And there was no way for me to find him, anyway, or to take the knowledge necessary to run the Consortium from his mind. But you …”

  “Right. But me, and my wonderful gift of mind-reading that’s done nothing but get me reamed over and over for the past half a decade.” The bitterness in his voice could have curdled the contents of the chamber pot behind him.

  “So you sought me out, found me in Lurias—within days of my getting there, I might add. I don’t suppose you care to tell me how? Somehow, I don’t think it was really as simple as your specters picking me out of the crowd.”

  “No.” Did she actually sound nervous?

  “Fine. So you pretended to fall in love with me—”

  “I didn’t pretend!” she protested, but Jace plowed on, ignoring her.

  “What I did to Kallist must have presented you some problems.” Jace frowned. “Did he have to die, Liliana?”

  “I’d hoped not,” she said, and Jace found he actually believed her. “But when the spell didn’t reverse itself, I didn’t see any other option.”

  “Just like you had to do everything else,” he spat. “But fine. Everything else was about making sure I had no choice but to confront Tezzeret, wasn’t it? The first time, you tipped Paldor off that I was living in Lurias District. That’s when he sent Gemreth and the others. So why not just tip them off again, the second time? Why go through Semner?”

  “Because—”

  “Ah, right. Because you needed me to be me, and you couldn’t risk the Consortium sending someone who could actually kill me before that happened. You needed me to try to ‘save Jace,’ so I could be me again.”

  Liliana nodded sadly. “When Kallist was ‘you,’ he had many of your magics, but not all of them. And even if he had, he wouldn’t have your Spark. It had to be the real you.”

  “So Tezzeret thinks I’m after him, I think he’s after me. Every time he lost track of me, you pointed him in the right direction, didn’t you? Every time I tried to walk away from the fight, you argued me out of it. And every time he came close to killing me, you fought to make sure it didn’t happen.”

  “That wasn’t the only reason,” she said with another sigh. “But yes.”

  “And,” he added, with sudden revelation, “now that it’s all gone straight to hell, you get to foist all the suspicion off on me, and stay in his good graces. So what story did you tell him, exactly?”

  “That the spirit you used to trace him here was yours, not mine, and that I decided it was safest to come with you and try to deliver you to him rather than to risk confronting you on my own.” She smiled wanly. “Not the most waterproof story, but since his truth elixir didn’t force me to change it …”

  “And that would be why? No, wait. Same reason I couldn’t read any of this in your mind when we met. You want to explain how that’s possible?”

  “No. That, you don’t get.”

  “I know you couldn’t have done it yourself, Liliana. You’re powerful, but you’re not a mind-mage. Who helped you?”

  “No.”

  Jace glowered but let it go. “So if you’ve managed to keep pristine through all this, why help me escape now?”

  “Because I don’t want to see you suffer what they’re going to do to you.” Then, at his expression, she actually slammed a palm against the floor. “I mean it, Jace. I really do care for you. I won’t pretend it’ll stop me from doing what I need to do, but it’s true all the same.”

  “Say I believe that,” Jace said, and he was shocked to realize that he wanted to believe it. “What’s the other reason?”

  “Because I’ve gotten too close to give up!” Liliana leaned in, her eyes suddenly bright. “We can still win!”

  Jace shook his head. “You’re insane.”

  “No, think about it! He won’t be expecting a second attack, not from you!”

  “I can’t beat him, damn it!” He found himself clutching the bars, unsure of when he’d actually grabbed for them.

  “Not alone,” she whispered.

  “You? So who handles Baltrice and the guards?”

  “No, I didn’t mean me. We get help, Jace.”

  “Who could … You’re not serious!”

  “You have a better idea? All we have to do is get Tezzeret to Grixis.”

  “Oh, is that all?”

  “Much as he hates you? If he thinks you’re escaping, he’ll follow you just about anywhere. And if he realizes you’re going to Grixis, he’ll be that much more desperate to stop you! He knows as well as we do that he can’t stand up to you and Bolas.”

  Jace could only stare. “Even if it proves that easy, you really think Nicol Bolas would interfere?”

  “He helped us before. We might have to make a deal, but I think it’d be worth it, don’t you?”

  That was it, then. Jace could all but hear the last piece of the puzzle click into place in his mind.

  Of course. The Consortium wasn’t her prize, could not free her from her debt; it was payment, payment to the only one who could.

  And now he knew what he had to do.

  “If we’re actually going to try this,” he told her thoughtfully, “there are a few things I need you to find out first.”

  It was some few days later, as best Jace could tell, when Liliana returned. He’d suffered through only a single “session” with Baltrice in the interim; she must be busy.

  “We’ve less time than I’d hoped,” Liliana said to him as the door once more slid shut behind her. “The dreadful duo are conducting some sort of experiment, but I don’t know how long that’ll keep them occupied.”

  Jace forced himself to stand, ignoring the pains of his most recent burns, and shuffled across the cell. “I thought we were waiting until they were off-world again.”

  Liliana shook her head and placed a large bundle on the floor near the bars. “I don’t think we can, Jace. I think they’re close to finishing.”

  He didn’t need her to complete the thought, felt himself trembling again at Tezzeret’s plans. “Then I guess we’d better hurry,” he said, voice quavering.

  Despite his frayed nerves, however, he couldn’t help but smile as Liliana began to unwrap the bundle, and he recognized the equally frayed blue cloak that served as the bag. She glanced up at his expression and smiled in turn; for just a moment, it was almost enough to make him forget that more than bars now stood between them.

  Her movements swift but precise, she laid out an array of odd devices, near the cell but not directly beside it.

  “The guards won’t miss those?” Jace asked.

  Her grin turned nasty. “The guards have bigger problems right now.” On cue, the door slid open, and a quartet of Tezzeret’s soldiers shambled into the room. Jace barely had to glance their way to see that they were already dead.

  “Infinity Globes,” she said, not allowing time for further questions. She lifted a pair of small dark orbs. “It’s what he used to follow you when you tried your ‘tactical withdrawal.’ I understand he started work on them after the two of you had trouble escaping from Bolas’s berserkers a few years ago.”

  Jace nodded, remembering how near they’d both come to dying that day.

  “As I understand it,” she continued, “They’re made of an etherium filigree, so tightly packed it’s almost fused. It provides a lot of the power you’d normally have to focus from the world around you, so you don’t need to spend more th
an a few seconds in concentration. It’s easier for Tezzeret, thanks to his etherium arm, but they should work for us as well.”

  “Handy.”

  She nodded, then pushed them aside. Frankly, she still wasn’t certain he’d live long enough to need them. She lifted her other prize, a bizarre contraption of tubes and pipes, and set it beside the cell.

  “That’s it?” he asked. “It looks like an Izzet water pipe.”

  Liliana chuckled. “Maybe. But yes, that’s it. There’s enough mana stored in here to help you recover if …” She sighed. “Jace, are you sure this is a good idea? There’s a reason I don’t summon these things, you know. They’re notoriously hard to control.”

  “I’m sure it’s a lousy idea,” he told her. “But unless you found something in that arsenal that looks like an antidote to Tezzeret’s Stay Where You’re Put poison …?”

  She shook her head.

  “Then it’s the only idea I’ve got,” he concluded. “All right,” she whispered. “Then let’s get it over with.”

  At her silent command, the four zombies advanced, one producing a heavy chain they had picked up elsewhere in the complex. Because the undead could not place so much as a finger between the bars without falling inert, Liliana passed the end of the chain to Jace, who ran it around two of the bars and fed it back out. The zombies lifted both ends, stepped away, and began to twist.

  Jace stepped as far back as the walls of the cell allowed, crouching in a corner and lifting his arms to protect his face from any flying debris. Liliana moved behind the zombies, muttering under her breath, exhorting them to ever greater efforts.

  A high-pitched squeal echoed throughout the chamber, and flakes of metal sifted earthward where the chain rubbed against the bars. Tireless and impossibly strong, the zombies continued to twist.

  “Are we sure there’s no alarm?” Jace asked, shouting over the rising screech.

  “Would it matter?” Liliana called back.

  I guess not, Jace thought. He could only hope, with Tezzeret and Baltrice occupied in the laboratory and the guards beyond the cell now deceased, that nobody would be in a position to hear it if there was.

  A second, equally deafening tone joined the first, as filings sifted from the sockets in which the bars were housed. The bars began, every so faintly, to quiver.

  And then the zombies fell back as one of the links in the chain snapped open. Jace and Liliana took just a moment to reposition one of the shorter lengths, and the undead efforts continued.

  It took only a few moments more. With a final, ear-piercing rend, the two bars bent inward and tore loose from their sockets. Jace was free.

  Sort of.

  Pale and perspiring—not from the toxin, for he’d not yet left the cell, but at the notion of what had to happen next—Jace forced himself to stand beside the gap without quite passing through. Carefully he lowered himself into a crouch and stuck his left arm out.

  The zombies shuffled to his side, as near as they could get, ready to drag him out.

  “Do it,” he breathed.

  Liliana began to chant, a litany not quite so deep, but somehow far more sinister, than those she used to call her spectral minions. The air beside her clouded over, filled with a faintly luminescent mist, and once again the runic tattoos sprouted across her back and neck. The chamber’s still air grew humid and uncomfortably chill.

  Between one blink and the next, the mist was gone, and in its place stood a tall man. Dark-haired and cleanshaven, he was clad in formal tunic, vest, and leggings that might have been the height of fashion on Ravnica a century gone by. He turned his piercing stare on Liliana. For a moment they stood locked in what Jace could only assume was a battle of wills, until finally he bowed, mouth twisted in a scornful moue.

  The necromancer turned back to Jace, and he recognized the unspoken message. Last chance to back out.

  “Do it,” he said again, voice steadier.

  Liliana nodded, once to him, once to the newcomer. He smiled broadly, showing a mouthful of fangs that lengthened even as she watched.

  Jace shuddered violently as the vampire pressed its mouth to his arm and began to drink gluttonously of his contaminated blood.

  “Jace?”

  He felt himself afloat, swaddled in the softest darkness, far from the pains and the fears of the light. He drifted on the border, not between waking and sleeping, but on the edge of something greater, something deeper than slumber. It sang to him in the voice of a thousand sirens, a call far easier to heed than to resist.

  “Damn it, Jace! Stay with me!”

  He tried not to hear the words, not to know the voice. But it nagged at him, even over the restful urgings of the dark.

  That’s right; there was something he was supposed to do.

  Jace opened his eyes, and even that was a monumental victory. His entire body was a leaden weight, his thoughts mired in painful lethargy, and even his heartbeat felt slowed. He no longer sensed the horrible creature’s lips and teeth on his arm, but when he forced himself to look and make certain, all he could see was the corpse-white pallor of his own skin.

  Which made sense, really, given that he was currently rather blood-deficient. For no good reason, Jace found the notion hysterical, but all he could muster was a single giggle.

  Liliana frowned, though she couldn’t quite mask her relief that he hadn’t just died on her. Moving swiftly, she pressed the largest tube of the artifact to his face. Jace coughed once as a strange vapor that wasn’t quite steam wafted over him, permeating his lungs. He felt a strength growing within him, a potency he hadn’t consciously realized he was missing.

  But it was a vigor of the spirit only, not the body. Though the mana infused his soul, the languor in his limbs refused to fade. He was able, barely, to turn his head—and he noticed, for the first time, that the zombies had dragged him from the cell while he was out—but nothing more.

  “Oh, yeah, this was a great idea,” Liliana grumbled. “As long as Tezzeret accidentally trips and falls on something sharp, we’ve got him where we want him!”

  “I’m so glad … I don’t have the strength … to pretend to laugh.” Jace closed his eyes.

  “Are you sure you—”

  “No. Be quiet.”

  Liliana glared at him—or at least he assumed so, though he didn’t open his eyes to check. He let the darkness and the silence roll over him once more, not to fall into it as he had nearly done, but to blot out the distractions, the lingering pain, the sound of his own labored breaths.

  Carefully, as though afraid his thoughts might topple if he didn’t stack them just so, he cast his mind back to Emmara’s home on Ravnica. As he’d done then, he pushed himself to remember the feel of her magics, the warmth that suffused his body at the elf’s healing touch, the seemingly endless plains that ran beneath Ovitzia where he’d recently spent so much time. He turned it over in his mind, examining the sensation, delving into it, forcing it to become real, more real than the cold floor beneath him, than the burns that had transformed his body into a map of suffering, than the weakness the vampire had left in place of his stolen blood.

  The one and only time Jace had done this before, he’d barely felt a tremor in his wounds before his concentration lapsed. This time, he had to literally haul himself from death’s door; to regenerate a loss of blood that should, by all rights, have already killed him.

  And then he was going to take on Tezzeret again.

  Jace allowed himself to break focus just long enough to wonder if he could cure himself of his obvious insanity while he was at it—and then he bent every last bit of will to a task that he knew he shouldn’t be able to perform, but at which he could not afford to fail.

  The laboratory was neither a room nor a complex of rooms, but a multilevel network of pipes and tubes that, at various points throughout, formed floors and hollows in which people might work. Smoke and arcs of raw mana, in a variety of peculiar colors and pungent scents, wafted between pillars and spheres t
hat emitted strange, multihued auras. The entire chamber smelled strongly of ozone, and when entering one of its many doors, or climbing up from level to level, one had to be careful where one put one’s hands, lest one find them violently shocked.

  Tezzeret himself, of course, simply willed the various protrusions to lift and carry him wherever he needed to go. Now he stood within one of those hollow “workrooms,” Baltrice at his side, as he turned his creation over and over in his hands, inspecting it for impurities.

  “There, if you would,” he said, indicating a rough seam. She nodded, tensed in brief concentration, and sparks flew as the metal welded itself together.

  “Enough. I think that’s as done as it’s getting.”

  Baltrice frowned at the pronouncement. “Really?” She reached out and tapped the many thin protrusions, then the glass reservoir filled with a viscous green fluid. “It doesn’t look all that sturdy to me, boss.”

  “I wouldn’t take it into battle,” he agreed, “but it’ll do until I can devise a more portable version. We’ll need a brain to test it on first, of course, but barring any unforeseen flaws, I think Beleren’s about to find himself moving to slightly smaller quarters.”

  Baltrice snickered, a sound that transformed abruptly to a shout of pain as the reservoir bulb shattered, spraying glass shards and its caustic contents across her skin. She struggled to clear her eyes with a sleeve as Tezzeret, utterly bewildered, gawped at the ruins of his creation.

  And his gaze grew wider still, jaw dropping in slack amazement, as the manablade detached itself from Baltrice’s belt. Carried aloft by a rat-sized drake, it soared upward between the preponderance of tubes. He watched the creature rise, watched until it dropped the weapon gently into the hands of a man who could not be there!

  “I believe this is mine,” Jace called from the level above. Clad in boots and leathers stolen from one of Tezzeret’s guards, and his own tattered blue cloak, he loomed over them like a vengeful ghost—and for long seconds, the artificer could only assume that’s indeed what he was. He couldn’t possibly have escaped that cell alive! He couldn’t!