by Cory Herndon
Kos supposed he should be grateful. Most people probably didn’t get the chance to realize how foolish their deaths were. Fate’s sense of humor was once again kicking Agrus Kos in the head. The joy of life had settled to a dull roar as the fact of it sunk in to his mind.
“Kos,” a familiar musical voice said, “are you in there?”
Kos blinked and finally remembered that he wasn’t just alive—he was in a body that was somewhere. He straightened up his paunchy new body and took in the rest of his surroundings. It was somewhere less familiar than the voice but familiar nonetheless. He’d testified for the prosecution here half a dozen times over the years. The Azorius Senate chambers, a cavernous amphitheater littered with ghostly soulsworn and a trio of officious-looking judicial types from … Azorius, Selesnya, and Boros, if his eyes weren’t lying. Bleary-eyed, Kos eventually pinpointed the source of the voice on the central floor.
He’d hardly dared hope that he was right about the speaker’s identity, and his (borrowed?) face split into a wide grin. “Feather?” he said.
At last it dawns, that odd voice said in his mind.
Who are you? Kos thought back. What’s your problem?
Your anchor, the voice replied, making Kos wonder if he wasn’t just dead but going crazy as well. My name is Obez Murzeddi. That’s my body you’re wearing. Don’t get too comfortable, I’ll want it back. The voice added bitterly, I came this close to taking today off.
“So I’m—I’m what, again?” Kos repeated. Every time he spoke, the voice changed a bit more to sound like his old one but would never be perfectly identical. His spirit, or whatever you called it, was trying to force this new body to sound like the one it remembered, with only partial success.
The blind Azorius judge sighed in exasperation, but Kos didn’t care. None of this made any sense in his newly resurrected mind, and if it took a longer explanation than “Welcome back, Kos,” then by Razia’s breastplate he was going to get it.
“I have made you an avatar of Azorius,” the Grand Arbiter said. “You currently reside in the body of the lawmage Obez Murzeddi, a trained ectomancer and one of the most able and trusted members of my staff. He has volunteered to be your physical anchor while you continue your service at our behest.”
“And why did you do that?” Kos asked. “Wasn’t a hundred-odd years of service enough? Haven’t I earned the right to retire?”
“You are still a spectral guard, and you therefore serve the Azorius,” Augustin said. “You will find that the contract is quite firm and does not change just because your specific assignment has been adjusted. A contract is a contract, and this one should give you more than enough time for this task.”
“You can’t force me to do anything,” Kos said.
“Not true,” the Grand Arbiter said. “This is quite compulsory.”
“Then this is it,” Kos insisted. “I do this task for you, and you let me just go to Agyrem or wherever. This job is worth a few decades of service, I think.”
“Agreed,” Augustin IV said. “In all honesty, it does not matter. This is the job you were preserved to perform.”
“Me,” Kos said, “and the Guildpact. Why me?”
Feather spoke up. “Kos, the Guildpact is broken. And you—we—are responsible.”
“How so?” Kos snapped impatiently.
Easy, the voice in his head said. We’re all on the same side here.
Quiet, Kos told the voice. Leave me alone.
I would be happy to, but I’m a servant of Azorius. As you are. We do the bidding of the Grand Arbiter.
Suck-up, Kos thought.
Yes, that will certainly help. Insult me. Why don’t you find out what’s going on before you begin name-calling?
The voice had a point, but Kos struggled not to think it in as many words. He didn’t like having a clever, sarcastic voice in his head that wasn’t his own clever, sarcastic voice.
“How are we responsible, Feather?” Kos demanded. “Baroness, what do you have to do with this?”
Teysa Karlov shrugged. “I’m just the advokist,” she said and jerked a thumb over one shoulder at the figure on the floating marble seat. “Tell it to the judge.”
“She has played her part,” the Grand Arbiter said without elaboration. “You, unfortunately, played Szadek’s part for him twelve years ago. I will make this as clear as possible, and you will do as ordered,” the Grand Arbiter said imperiously. “In your previous existence, Agrus Kos, you involved yourself in matters of great import to the Guildpact. You were duped by a being who is deception incarnate, but still, you were a dupe.”
“What are you talking about?” Kos said. “Who ‘duped’ me? I may have been overcharged at the Backwater a few times, but—”
“You arrested the Dimir guildmaster. In so doing, you broke the Guildpact.”
“That was Szadek trying to destroy the Guildpact, your honor,” Kos objected. “I stopped him. And I never saw him again. He was taken away by the Azorius guard, I believe. And now, you,” he pointed at the members of the tribunal with Obez Murzeddi’s hand, “you managed to lose him?”
“How the Dimir vampire escaped is immaterial,” Augustin replied, “though I doubt it would have been possible if the Guildpact had not already suffered mortal injury through your other erroneous actions.” The Grand Arbiter leaned forward. “Szadek let you get close enough to do it. Your crime is ultimately ignorance, with complications.”
“If I’m so ignorant,” Kos said, “why not spell it out for me? Sir?”
The judge scowled beneath his silver blindfold. “The Dimir exist to oppose the Guildpact, to strengthen its power by the force of that opposition. It is why House Dimir was welcomed into the accord. Rakdos and his foul ilk, too. The Guildpact could not have lasted as long, or been as powerful, without that equal and opposing malevolence. But you arrested Szadek for crimes against the Guildpact. You created a paradox in that his actions were the very essence of his purpose within the Guildpact.”
“You mean he was supposed to destroy the Guildpact, and the only way to save the Guildpact would have been to let him go ahead and do it? That doesn’t make any sense.”
“That is why it is a paradox,” Augustin IV said.
“So what’s the real story then?” Kos said. “Shouldn’t someone be out there trying to fix this?” As the last words left his borrowed mouth Kos regretted them.
“Yes,” Augustin said.
“Krokt. It’s me, isn’t it?”
“Yes, it is you.”
“Of course. Because …”
“You were the agent of the Guildpact’s collapse, though it was not your intent. Yet that gives us a chance, with luck and perseverance, to seal the breach and restore the holy document of law. We high guildmasters were not the only ones to suffer from arrogance and hubris,” the judge said. “Szadek had to drop his defenses to let you succeed and used his lurker servants to convince you he was beaten. For that trick to work, however, he had to truly allow you be a danger to him.”
“How did he know I wouldn’t kill him?” Kos asked.
“Another gamble but a correct one,” the Azorius guildmaster said. “You behaved as he predicted, as an honest lawman would. By creating the paradox, you achieved what he could not, even if you didn’t know it. But once the vampire allowed you past his protections, he could not raise them against you again.”
“Why not?” Kos asked.
“His power is based on secrecy, deception,” the judge said, “and his protections are based on a similar principle. He did not break his own magic. He simply made you a chink in his armor, and not even he can take that back from you once granted.”
“How do you know?” Kos asked. “Seems to me I never heard about this Dimir paradox until now.”
“I know,” the Azorius said. “He is my opposite number.”
“So what, you can read his mind?” Kos said.
“I can read his plans, through centuries of study and thousands of years of gathered
data.”
“Didn’t seem to help you when he showed up to eat the Selesnya Conclave,” Kos retorted.
“No,” the judge replied, “It did not. He used—certain methods to elude detection that I had not anticipated. It is an imperfect world.”
“So you brought me back from an afterlife of interminable boredom to carry out a hit,” Kos finished. “Like a common thug.”
“You object?” the Grand Arbiter asked.
“Actually, no,” Kos said after some consideration. “I’ll do it.”
“You can destroy him, but first you must find him.”
“Now wait a minute,” Kos said, the thing that had been bothering him about the Grand Arbiter’s reasoning finally rising to the surface. “You mentioned his ‘lurker servants.’ Well, I’m not the only one who can hurt him. The lurkers did a nice job on him for a while there.”
“That did occur to me,” the Grand Arbiter said. “I have hypotheses. Perhaps the vampire did not believe he needed any kind of protection from the lurker. Perhaps the lurker has his own ways of piercing defenses that works counter to Szadek’s own. Regardless, the lurker has been vanquished.”
“How do you know that?” Kos demanded. “He—it—can look like anyone.”
“A decade-long effort conducted by my own agents, at great risk and in total, necessary secrecy,” the Azorius replied. “The lurker is destroyed.”
“I was just making a point. So … this will fix the Guildpact?” Kos said. “And then that’s it? You release me, and the world goes back to normal?”
“It is possible,” the loxodon, Saint Kel, said, “but only just. The Guildpact magic is still there in the song. It may yet be healed. This wound may not have to be mortal.”
“My honored colleague is more optimistic than I,” Augustin IV said. “But if you can destroy him, he will be unable to drive this world further into darkness and conflict, conflict on which he thrives. His machinations are many, and I sense his hand in a great many troubles in Ravnica.”
“Seems to me that the best time to eliminate the problem would have been not to let him in ten thousand years ago,” Kos said. “Not that I’m any judge. In any respect.”
“Hindsight is always clearer than foresight,” the judge agreed. “Yet ten thousand years of peace are nothing to scoff at. The Dimir must be stopped, but without Szadek and the House Dimir there would have been no Guildpact at all. We made law and magic into one, and magic respects certain numbers.”
“Ten, in this case,” Teysa volunteered.
“So what do I do?” Kos said.
“As an avatar of Azorius, you have been granted a fraction of my power,” the Grand Arbiter said. “Your ghostly form is anchored, as I said, to lawmage Murzeddi. But you may leave it for a time and move—temporarily—to other bodies, over a considerable distance, as needed. Whatever body you possess, you will still be you. You will still be Kos. And so you will be able to harm him.”
“Just ‘harm him’?” Kos said. “Just like that? How do I jump out of this body?”
“You will, of course, need to suit your tactics to the situation,” the judge said. “Lawmage Murzeddi will aid you.”
Kos considered. His immediate anger at being drafted against his will—and after his actual death, at that—was cooling. He had served the Guildpact, served Ravnica, for most of his life. Strange as the circumstances were, was this really any different?
No, of course not, the voice of Obez Murzeddi said, but Kos ignored it. He needed no more convincing.
“I guess I’d better get started,” Kos said. “But I’m going to need help.”
“You can count on me,” Feather said and turned to the judge, “assuming, my lord, that this means the charges—”
“The charges are dropped, of course,” the Grand Arbiter said. “But as the last remaining angel, you are the new Boros guildmaster. You have duties.”
Feather indicated the wojek commander-general with one hand. “Acting guildmaster Nodov shall serve in my stead. You are the one who pointed out my own responsibility in this, your honor. You cannot deny me the chance to help Kos set things right.”
The judge considered this for a moment and nodded.
“All right, Feather. You’re with me,” Kos said gratefully. In this body, Kos would be lucky to be able to hold a sword, let alone use it. The skills would be there, the muscles to use them might not. He didn’t want to count on finding a convenient trained athlete to possess, assuming he could even pull of that little trick. Feather would fill that gap and then some.
“Before you begin,” the Grand Arbiter said, “my personal intelligence network may have discovered Szadek’s true hiding place.”
“But you all just explained he’s in some city of ghosts,” Kos said.
“Despite what the legionary believed, I suspect that Szadek did not need the Schism to travel back and forth between Agyrem and Ravnica,” Augustin said. “It is my belief he is already here. He waited until all of the angels were in Agyrem to attack the Parhelion, when he apparently could have done so whenever he wanted. I believe he is making a similar feint again, holding his forces back until he has all of the pieces where he wants them. Fortunately, we have something Szadek is not known for providing—a living, breathing, witness.” The judge turned and said, “Bailiff, bring in Evern Capobar.”
A older man walked into the Senate chambers from an anteroom. He looked sullen and angry. He bore a nasty wound over one eye.
“Evern Capobar,” the Chief Bailiff announced then returned to his post.
“He’s wanted on several counts of—”
“Not now, Nodov,” the loxodon said.
“He was found in the Center,” Augustin said. “He is the one we seek.”
Kos and the small assembly listened with rapt attention to the master thief’s drunken story. The shadowy figure Capobar described fit Szadek’s description perfectly. Kos was perhaps most disturbed to hear that the Dimir guildmaster had not just allied with the Simic progenitor but also, apparently, had a Devkarin woman with him he called “god-zombie.” Kos didn’t like the sound of that at all. He’d heard about the god-zombie from that other Devkarin, Jarad the bounty hunter. Svogthir was supposed to be dead, but it seemed no one was staying properly dead these days. And he could only think of one Devkarin woman who fit Capobar’s description.
Kos involuntarily shuddered at the memory. I really wish you hadn’t just thought of that, Obez’s voice echoed.
Then don’t go looking, Kos replied.
You fill up my whole brain with a graphic memory of snapped necks and worm-monsters and I’m not supposed to look?
He wondered if he could refuse to act until the Azorius could get him a new “anchor,” but it was obvious that wasn’t going to happen. He turned his attention back to the thief’s testimony.
The Simic progenitor’s involvement was harder to figure out. The Simic were the guild of medicine, the bioengineers of Ravnica. They created cures for an entire world of diseases. Over the years they’d saved the population from plagues, produced ton after countless ton of magical salves and healing teardrops. If he knew the Guildpact was broken, it stood to reason that the progenitor was eager to try creating things that might not be so beneficial. Momir Vig had a reputation as a genius, and even though the Simic functioned as the doctors of Ravnica, they had an equally well-deserved reputation for experimentation. The kuga plague, Kos had always suspected, reeked of such experiments. Then there were the virusoids that the Utvaran Simic, Dr. Nebun, had used to tend his laboratory back in the reclamation zone. The wojek-turned-bouncer-turned-spectral-turned-avatar didn’t require much imagination to see how that could be taken to extremes if the Guildpact was not holding the Simic back anymore. Especially if the master of the Simic knew the Guildpact was in trouble.
It all made sense, but Kos couldn’t escape the feeling that he was stepping into another trap.
It had taken hours, but Crixizix had finally managed to dig a small tunn
el down to Pivlic. The imp wasn’t sure how he had lasted even that long except for his absolute determination not to die.
The goblin crawled forward slowly, with exaggerated caution, determined not to bring down the remains of the Imp Wing Hotel and Tavern on Pivlic. The imp appreciated the caution but would have appreciated speed a little more.
“Hello,” Pivlic croaked. His throat was dry as sandpaper. “What brings you to the Imp Wing? Can I interest you in our special of the day, my friend? Imp paté. Real bargain.”
“Glad you’re still with us,” Crixizix said. “Don’t waste your energy. I’m going to get you out of here. I have teardrops, and there’s a pair of ogres ready to pull this column off of you at my signal.”
“But the town—”
“The town is lost,” the goblin said sadly. “Many are dead, but most of the townsfolk were able to flee. They didn’t seem too concerned with us. Too small, I think.” Something else even worse than the destruction of the township obviously troubled the goblin.
“Who wasn’t too concerned?” Pivlic said. “Have the stone titans set upon us? Have the dragons returned?”
“You’ll probably remember soon. If not, I’ll fill you in as soon as you’re free.”
The goblin wriggled beneath the pillar, pulling a length of strong rope behind her. Crixizix reached around the imp to pass the rope under the column, blocking Pivlic’s line of sight with her tattooed forearm.
“This won’t work,” Pivlic said, recalling the lokopede accident. “ ’drops can’t change the fact that I’m crushed. If you pull off the column, I will die.”
“I said don’t talk,” Crixizix said with gently chiding humor. The goblin was one of the more unusual members of the species Pivlic had ever met, possessed of a great deal of intelligence and a charming demeanor. The imp suspected she could make some Orzhov a fantastic agent if Crixizix ever chose to leave the Izzet. “So I suppose you’re a doctor now too?” Crixizix continued. “Baron-regent wasn’t enough for you? I told you I’m getting you out of here. Don’t you worry about a thing.”
“Is that what you told Kos?” Pivlic croaked. Pivlic hadn’t called many people friend in both word and thought, but Kos had been one of them.