Agents of Artifice p-1

by Ari Marmell

  The next few moments were a blur; Jace had no time to think, let alone to speak, as he struggled with everything he had to keep up. Finally, when he felt that it was a race to see whether his feet would fall off before the sweat washed the nose and lips from his face, Liliana finally guided him away from the throng and into a booth that was miraculously empty of other customers.

  "You know, you're a halfway decent dancer."

  "I'm a lousy dancer," Jace said panting, tapping a finger to the side of his head. "But that fellow over there, in the black and green? He's an excellent dancer."

  Liliana's jaw dropped, and then she laughed. "Why, 'Darrim,' are you trying to impress me?"

  "Only if it's working." Then, "Liliana, I really am sorry."

  "I know," she told him.

  Jace grinned weakly. "Will you still believe me when I ask again where Kallist is?"

  She frowned, then shrugged. "Kallist left-politely!" she added, poking Jace in the stomach with a finger, "when I made it clear that he'd misinterpreted the nature of our burgeoning relationship."

  "Oh?" Jace felt his chest pounding faster than it had during the dance. "And, um… What about our 'burgeoning relationship'?"

  Liliana smiled coyly and ordered another drink. "I don't know. Do we have one?"

  "Look, I… I know that I showed the manners of a troll with piles earlier. I wanted to make it up to you. I, um, I got you something."

  She managed to keep the smile on her face, though inside she groaned. "And what would that be? A bouquet of flowers? A nice piece of jewelry you can't afford? Maybe a doll?"

  And then she cocked her head in puzzlement as Jace handed over a thick envelope, sealed with a dollop of melted wax. She slid a finger beneath the flap, ready to break it open, but a soft touch on her hand stopped her.

  "Don't open it unless you need it," Jace told her. "I don't understand. What is it?"

  He smiled, almost shyly. "Secrets," he told her. "The personal secrets of half a dozen merchants, bankers, and aristocrats living in Dravhoc District." His smile grew wider at the stunned look that flitted across her face. "I'm not doing that anymore," he said. "But this? This is all old business, for me anyway, so it doesn't count. I wouldn't recommend staying long in Dravhoc at any given time; the Consortium's got sharp eyes there. But I'd imagine you can drop in long enough to collect a few payments.

  "If, you know, you're ever desperate enough where the only other choice is waiting tables in a tavern."

  Liliana leaned in and brushed her lips across Jace's own, enjoying the sudden startled look before he responded in kind.

  The sun was already slumbering beneath the western horizon when they arrived at the entrance to Jace's flat. He felt light enough that he hadn't even noticed the stairs, and it was with some reluctance that he pushed open the door.

  "I guess," he said, taking both her hands in his, "this is where we say good night."

  Liliana kissed him once and then turned them about, so that it was she who stood in the doorway, he in the hall.

  "This," she said with a smile, "is where we say good morning."

  Jace followed her inside and shut the door.

  "I'm leaving, Jace."

  He looked up from where he sat on the ragged sofa, a plate of mushrooms and pork sausages on his lap, to see Kallist standing in the doorway. Slowly, uncertainly, Jace placed his breakfast to one side and stood. He'd avoided his friend for several days, now, uncertain what to say. But he certainly hadn't expected those to be the first words they exchanged.

  "Kallist," he began slowly, "I don't-"

  "It's better for all three of us," Kallist interrupted bitterly.

  Jace nodded slowly. "What are you going to do?"

  "Get my own flat." Kallist shrugged. "My new position pays more than enough. Maybe not as well as blackmailing the rich and famous, but I'll get by."

  "You know I don't do that anymore," Jace insisted.

  "No, not until you need to. Or until someone prettier than me asks nicely."

  Jace didn't even ask how he knew. "That's different. It's not new information, and it's only in the case of-"

  "You're a hypocrite, Jace. It's fine. My own fault, really. I should've known better than to take you at your word, when it came to getting something you wanted-the one thing I might've found to make this damned place a little better!"

  "She was never yours!" Jace shot to his feet, fists clenched. "Never!"

  "Because you wouldn't give us the chance!" Kallist shot back. "It's not enough that you took away everything I had?"

  "Took away… Damn it, Kallist, I saved your life!"

  "You call this a life?"

  His jaw opened, to argue, to berate his friend for such an arrogant, narrow view of Lurias, of existence beyond the Infinite Consortium-and then Jace could only think of his own reactions, his own conversations with Liliana about this community in which they found themselves, and the words wouldn't come. He felt his face flush, though he wasn't entirely certain of what he was ashamed.

  Perhaps misinterpreting Jace's sudden reticence,

  Kallist's own expression softened. "Look, Jace, this isn't how I wanted this to go. I know you meant well. Whatever else might've happened, I owe you thanks for that, and I've never said it." It was magnanimous, maybe more so than he really meant, or than Jace really deserved. But then, he was the one leaving, the one with a future, so he could afford to be.

  The mage looked up once more, his eyes bright. "You're welcome, Kallist. And… I'm sorry it didn't turn out like I'd hoped."

  Kallist nodded and was gone from the flat without another word, leaving Jace to stare at the blank and featureless door.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  It took a few more weeks-weeks in which she was never far from Jace's side, weeks that she had to admit were far more pleasant than any she could recall-but everything was finally ready.

  She had him fully wrapped around her finger. She knew she could sway him, push him to react exactly as she needed him to react. She knew he trusted her, loved her. It was what she'd been waiting for, working for, and now it was time.

  So why did she wait? Why had she stood in the darkened main room of her flat-which she barely saw anymore, so much time was she spending in his-and stared down at her hands, for almost an hour now?

  It had to be the risk, she told herself. She couldn't know precisely in what numbers they'd come, but she knew they'd come in force. Maybe she should put it off a little longer? Find a few more ways to test his powers, ensure that he'd come out ahead in the coming conflict? Perhaps-

  No. No, that wasn't why she hesitated, and she damn well knew it. And putting it off? That would just make it harder still.

  Setting her jaw, she cast her spells, summoned her spectral heralds, sent them out into the darkness of Ravnica to deliver their messages, repeat their whispers, until they reached the ears of those who needed to hear them.

  And then Liliana sat in the dark, wondering when the thought of Jace being hurt had suddenly begun to bother her.

  Ignixnax sped through the winding byways and half-repaired buildings of Rubblefield as swiftly as its four unevenly beating wings could carry it, giggling obscenely as it flew. Rarely did the imp bother to rush for much of anything, save when ordered by the bearded mortal dolt who summoned it-but rarely, then, did it have anything worth rushing for. Today, though, today it had heard whispers from the specters and the hidden demons of Ravnica's shadows, urgent whispers, vital whispers-fun whispers. And it knew those whispers must be shared.

  It dived from the heights, flashing through the nearest doorway to the Consortium's complex. As a summoned servant of one of the cell's operatives, its entry was authorized, set off none of the mystical safeguards. Still, many of the guards at the door reacted to what they perceived as a threat, pulling blades, stabbing and swinging at the tiny alien thing that appeared suddenly in their midst. Ignixnax only giggled louder and darted around their swords with contemptuous ease, even taking a se
cond to whip one of them in the face with its barbed tail before proceeding into the halls. And with that it was off into the winding halls, its twitching tail splattering bits of the foolish guard's blood and aqueous humor onto the carpet and the walls, until finally it arrived at its destination. Hovering unevenly, it reached out and scratched deeply at the wood of the door.

  The door opened with a series of clicks and the faint hum of a mystic glyph deactivating, and Gemreth stuck his head out into the passage.

  "I," the imp tittered at him in profane delight, "know where to find Jace Beleren."

  And it was Gemreth's turn to pound through the halls of the complex, sprinting his way toward Paldor's office, Ignixnax perched on his shoulder and chortling all the while.

  Jace was still smiling as he worked his way through the market throng, content enough that he didn't even feel the need to elbow anyone. Here he waved at someone he recognized from Eshton's, there he stopped by a stall to examine a coppersmith's wares before deciding to look a little further. He caught the faint aroma of fresh fish as he watched a pair of stevedores unloading crates of the stuff under the watchful eyes of some private guards. That, in turn, put him briefly in mind of Kallist; he wondered if the man might be somewhere nearby, guarding his employer's shops, or perhaps one of the many warehouses that lined the south and east sides of the marketplace.

  And even that thought wasn't enough to ruin Jace's good mood; if anything, he almost hoped he'd run into his old friend, have the chance to talk to him again now that some time had elapsed. He was absolutely ecstatic about feeling normal, although he'd never have recognized the sensation and would have denied it if he had. Here he was happy, here he was safe, and if he was still too ambitious and too enamored of his magics for that to satisfy him indefinitely, for a while at least it would be enough.

  But Jace Beleren didn't have a while left to him.

  "They come."

  Liliana-who mere moments ago left Jace behind in the market, to run his errands as she ran hers-pulled up short, ignoring the curses of the older man who almost ran into her from behind with his armload of loaves of bread. Moving far more carefully, eyes darting every which way, she moved off the main thoroughfare into a darkened doorway.

  "You're sure?" she whispered, when she was certain nobody paid her much attention.

  "You told us," the voice continued, and now she could barely make out a ghostly, humanoid shape among the other shadows, "keep watch as we spread our tales, keep watch for those who would respond to them. Do you doubt us now?"

  "No, of course not."

  "Then be warned. They come."

  Damn. She'd hoped to have a few more days. They must have really rushed, to get here so quickly!

  "Go," she told the lurking specter, "and gather the others. Keep watch over him. Warn or protect him where you can, but do not let yourself be detected."

  The specter nodded, vanishing with a faint hiss into the shadows once more. And Liliana herself dived back into the crowd, heading back the way she had come, the words of a spell already skittering like spiders across her lips.

  Jace felt a faint cold chill running down his spine, a shudder with no apparent cause. His hackles rose, and he spun swiftly to see nothing unusual at all: Just the press of the crowd, the occasional lizard-drawn cart, the various stalls, the buildings rising up beyond the bazaar's borders. He saw nothing alarming, and almost attributed the sudden shiver to an errant breeze, but it had felt so much like the necromantic energies Liliana commanded, the touch of her aura. Was she here, somewhere in the crowd? Was it an attack, something with an effect he hadn't yet sensed? Or…

  Just then Jace spotted him at the edge of the crowd. He'd never have noticed him had that strange chill not caressed him, causing him to turn; and he'd never have paid much attention even then, for the blue-skinned folk were hardly a rarity in Ravnica's many districts.

  But the vedalken stared at him in turn, and Jace needed only to meet his eyes to recognize Sevrien's intense and unblinking stare.

  They found us!

  Immediately Jace was fighting his way through the crowd, his burning urgency and rising fear at war with his desire to remain hidden, unnoticed. He saw them everywhere he looked, now, men and women who might be wearing the simple garb of laborers rather than their accustomed chain shirts, but who nonetheless moved with the poise of trained Consortium soldiers. He even recognized a few faces, and why not? He'd dwelt in the same building as these folks for quite some time, even if he'd never bothered to learn most of their names.

  From all sides they converged, slow but inexorable, gliding or shoving their way through the crowds. Jace glanced back over his shoulder, saw Sevrien turn and shout orders to someone else Jace couldn't detect, pointing not in Jace's direction but off to the side. Was he ordering someone around, to try to intercept him, or…

  Liliana. Had they found Liliana?

  He was all but running now, as much as the press of the throng would allow. Eldritch syllables dripped from his tongue, and with every few steps he was someone else, illusion after illusion flitting across his body. Now he was an old man, shuffling along, wrapped in rags that had once been beautiful finery; now a loxodon, his tusks and trunk and platter-sized ears protruding from above the heads of the crowd; now a goblin, peering this way and that for a merchant who might be willing to deal with her kind. Sometimes the images came from his imagination alone, other times from individuals he saw or bumped into in the crowd; anything to confuse the many watching eyes. Few in the packed bazaar even noticed the sudden changes, so intent were they on their own endeavors, and those who did could only blink and stare, uncertain what they'd just seen.

  For a time his misdirection kept his pursuers at bay, confused and uncertain where he'd gone, or even who he was. Still there were so many, and they knew well whom they faced. And slowly, oh so slowly, their noose drew tight, as ever more Consortium swords converged on the market's center.

  "Everything ready?" asked Kallist, standing in the doorway of a great warehouse beside a wagon that creaked beneath a dozen heavy crates. Already a series of administrative and paperwork delays had kept the imported textiles out of the market for hours; half the day was already wasted. The boss was not going to be happy if they lost any more time, but Kallist had his procedures, and procedures would not be rushed.

  "Not, uh, not entirely, Commander," reported the guard whose job it was to scout the streets between here and the vendors, to watch for any dangerous activity on the part of their rivals.

  "And what does 'not entirely' mean?"

  "Well, it doesn't seem to have anything to do with us. But something's going on in the bazaar. A whole lot of people there, Commander, and pretty heavily armed."

  Kallist scowled. Was the cold war between the merchant families about to combust? "Could you tell who they work for? Or at least whose shipments they're trying to intercept?"

  "That's just it, though. They're not moving in a single block, and they're not focusing on any given family or guild. I've seen manhunts before, Commander, and I'd swear they're looking for a person."

  Kallist's heart sank. It could have been someone else they were after-but who? Who in Lurias was that important?

  And in that moment, the past months ceased to matter. All that mattered was that the man who'd been his friend and brother, the man who'd saved his life, was threatened.

  "The shipment stays here," Kallist barked. "And so do you."

  He was off and running, one hand on the pommel of his broadsword, before the guard could even draw breath to question.

  So focused was he on maintaining his illusions, Jace never saw her coming.

  A living wisp of smoke, the elf Ireena twirled and flowed through the crowd. She spun around flying elbows, ducked beneath arms that reached for various goods, and none of it touched her. Her eyes stung mercilessly, thanks to the powders she'd sprinkled into them, but she refused to blink them clear. Through the alchemical haze, she studied the crowds, watch
ing, waiting for…

  There. The powder allowed her to see the faint aura of magic emanating from Jace Beleren as he strove pitifully to hide from them, to follow his movements no matter what pathetic guise he chose. Dancing and spinning like a delighted child, she drew ever nearer to him, and in her hand she cupped another batch of powders, wrapped in a protective leather pouch.

  Jace had just worked his way past yet another fishmonger when she appeared, spinning out from behind the stall. With a brilliant white grin that looked somehow hideous in her darkly tanned face, she slapped a handful of bitter particles across his mouth and nose.

  But Jace, while stunned by the sudden unexpected attack, was not entirely unprepared. Though he instantly began to cough as the drug worked its way into his lungs, fell choking to the cobblestones and felt the world grow hazy around him, he was able to deflect a portion of the powder with a fierce telekinetic thrust. His eyes watered as his body screamed for air, but he did not fall nearly as helpless as Ireena had intended.

  Even as she stepped in to admire her handiwork, Jace rose to his knees and lashed out. His fist, wrapped in the same telekinetic force that had dispersed some of her powder, slammed into her solar plexus with a terrible strength. Ireena fell to lie beside him with an ear-splitting scream, clutching her gut and writhing like a landed fish. She'd live-probably, if it didn't take too long for her to get help-but she was certainly no further danger to him.

  Jace tried to rise to his feet and failed, falling back against the fishmonger's stall and then once more to the street as his choking fit continued. His face reddened and he felt himself on the verge of passing out as he struggled desperately to breathe.

  The people around him, a few of whom had finally turned his way to see what was wrong, suddenly scattered before the thunder of approaching hoof beats. Jace looked up to see the silhouette of a centaur looming above him. Xalmarias; it had to be Xalmarias, though between the drugs and the angle of the sun he couldn't see enough to be certain.