Agents of Artifice: A Planeswalker Novel (34 page)

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.

I
t 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 second 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.