Jace�s back slammed against the wall of a sealed stone cell. He was trapped in an exitless Dimir prison, miles below the city with two vampires, the assassin Mirko Vosk and the recently-turned form of his compatriot Kavin. He was bait thrown into a shark tank. The two bloodsuckers approached him to drain him, first of the contents of his mind, and then of his veins.

Jace always had one escape open to him, as long as he had time to muster the will to travel. But it meant breaking his mental connection with Emmara. It meant abandoning her. And she was trapped as well.

�I have to leave you,� Jace projected into Emmara�s mind. �But I want you to listen to me very carefully.�

�Don�t you dare give me a moving final speech,� Emmara�s thoughts came back to him. �Whatever plight you�re in, fight it. I have no desire to be witness to your last words.�

The vampires advanced toward him, their faces painted the color of a garish bruise by his globe of blue light. Jace had a momentary thought that his attackers represented an escape of another kind. They would drain him, take away all the responsibility of handling this Ravnican disaster in progress. They would purge him of the knowledge of the maze again, the need to care, the need to persist or strive. He could slowly drown in oblivion, and let others solve the Implicit Maze, stop Lazav, handle Niv-Mizzet�s schemes���Maybe it didn�t all have to fall on him.

But if he did nothing, the consequences were plain. Jace saw it in flashes, as clearly as if it had already happened. Emmara would be imprisoned by the shapeshifter Lazav, and when she became too problematic, he would kill her. Niv-Mizzet would hold his public race through the maze, and teams from all ten guilds would cut as many throats as they needed to in order to win. Niv-Mizzet would have the advantage of the most information, but Dimir agents would steal what they needed to know, if they hadn�t already. Lazav would use the maze to claim power, and with no Guildpact to stop him, he would succeed.

He needed to concentrate. Emmara needed him. He found that was the simplest thought to focus on: Emmara needed him. Emmara was captured. Emmara would die.

�I am not planning on dying,� Jace thought to her. �Not yet. But I need you to do something. You have to run the maze for the Selesnya. You have to be selected. Do you understand?�

�What? Jace, that�s never going to happen. I�m a traitor to the Conclave.�

�You have to be chosen. It has to be you.�

�Calomir, Jace. Trostani is going to choose Calomir.�

�Under no circumstances should it be Calomir�or the one who�s taken Calomir�s form. No. Trostani�s going to choose you.�

�Why would she do that?�

�Because you will be the only one who knows the route.�

The fangs were bright as the vampires made their move. Vosk leaped forward and wrapped his claws around Jace�s neck, prying him from the wall. Kavin dashed around behind Jace�s back and seized his wrists, twisting with unnatural strength and hyperextending ligaments in his shoulders.

Jace struggled to continue his thoughts. �I�m going to show you what you need to know. Use it. Take his place. You�re the one, Emmara. You have to be the one.�

�You don�t understand. I can�t.�

�Here it comes. Use it. Just keep moving.�

Jace flashed through the maze route in his mind, skipping from landmark to landmark, projecting each location into Emmara�s mind. An intersection on the Transguild Promenade. A long bridge near the Golgari gate. A path up the wide steps to the Azorius gate. A passage through a tunnel that bent and exited near the hellish Rakdos gate. Every twist and turn of the maze. As he rushed through the route, he sent those images to Emmara. He showed her almost the entire path through the Implicit Maze, crystallizing the images in her own memories.

�Jace, I can�t��

�Now you know most of the route. All but the end. It has to be you, do you understand? Don�t let it be Calomir.�

Fangs sank into Jace�s neck. The air caught in his throat in mid-breath, his muscles locked from panic. He had no trick up his sleeve, no illusionary shell game to play to avoid Vosk�s bite. Blood ebbed out of him, and he could feel the stabbing of Vosk�s teeth in his mind as well, tearing gashes in his memories and letting them begin to drain out. He could feel Vosk sensing inside him, perhaps even tasting his knowledge of the maze or his connection to Emmara.

Jace forced himself to breathe. He let his body go limp, and looked deep inside himself. He visualized a spiraling vortex inside his chest that drew his body inward. He could feel Emmara trying frantically to reach him, but her voice in his mind became faint, fading like sounds from a distant tunnel. He felt suction overwhelming him, pulling his muscles and skin inward to the center of his chest. He gave a final push with his will, and he collapsed in on himself, releasing himself from the plane of Ravnica.

As he planeswalked, everything faded: the fangs in his skin, the stone cell under his feet, the vast city around him, the sound of Emmara�s thoughts. The darkness of the cell was replaced by the nonsensical, roaring dark of the Blind Eternities. There was no sensation of motion, and yet he could feel Ravnica receding behind him, diminishing in importance like a toy he had outgrown. He pulled his consciousness in the direction of another plane and willed himself there. The mad energies of the Blind Eternities tore at him, tried to unmake him as he traveled, but he kept his mind focused, his consciousness whole, and he sizzled through its timeless friction.

A sliver of failing sun shone through the crack in the boards nailed over one of Emmara�s windows. She did not eat. She didn�t want to walk around the house or put the teapot on or pump water for the desiccated plants. Guards from her own Selesnya guild did circuits around her house, keeping her locked in from the outside. Nothing she touched felt like her own anymore. This house had become her prison.

�Jace,� she thought. �Jace, can you hear me?�

She had tried to call out to Jace in her mind many times. She had never considered before whether thoughts could have volume, but she had learned that she was able to scream thoughts. She also knew, now, that she could whisper them. Her thoughts seemed barely audible to her now, just thin mental words whispered into the aether, their volume shrinking as her confidence grew that no one was hearing them.

She had also tried to call her nature elementals, but she had even less hope that that would work. Trostani had taken that spell from her. It was as if the power to summon the great beings of marble and vine had only been on loan to her and Trostani had revoked it, and with it all hope of magical escape. Even the few nature spells she knew would be useless to for trying to break out, especially with the building under constant watch.

A guard looked in at her through the tiny round window in her front door. This time the guard was a white-haired, stern-looking man in chain mail. The man grunted, and his face disappeared as he resumed his rounds circling the house.

They did this every hour on the hour, sticking their face through the gap in her door, checking the locks, and making sure she hadn�t moved. She hadn�t. She sat on the floor and watched the sliver of sun elongate as it crawled across the floorboards. She wished she were attached to that spot, as if her body had sprouted roots that had dug their way into the floor, branching out as they dug down, grasping at the soil. She longed to feel stability. When she walked, her knees betrayed her, as if the floor were unsteady.

Her guild had imprisoned her. Jace�s voice had left her. And then there was Calomir. All the bricks of her foundation had vanished.

Eventually the streak of light climbed onto the wall, and soon thereafter it thinned to nothing. Darkness fell, and sleep did not come. She hadn�t heard Jace�s voice in her mind. As far as she knew the world had disappeared outside her house, and she was the only person left in the world, floating in the void. She wished the thoughts would stop whirling. She tried to quiet her mind, but thoughts intruded anyway�thoughts of Calomir.

Jace had said that Calomir, the real Calomir, was dead, and that the man whom she had been seeing was an impostor. A shapeshifter had killed Calomir and taken his face. She tried not to believe that, to hate Jace for his lie. But she couldn�t, not quite, and a desolate anger surged in her. She grabbed a tin cup and threw it at a window. The glass shattered, and the cup bounced uselessly off of the nailed-in wooden boards. She stood and walked to the shattered window. The points of glass reflected her face in chaotic patterns. She took a triangle of glass, conscious of its sharpness. It comforted her somehow, knowing she had something that could slice flesh. She returned to her place in the middle of the floor, sat, and waited.

Sometime in the night, a guard visited again. This time it was a young human man with a thin red beard. He looked in, checked the door locks, glanced at Emmara, and cast down his eyes. They all averted their eyes like this, as if to prevent the traitor�s visage from contaminating their eyeballs, or to prevent her visage from contaminating their concept of her as a traitor. Even so, Emmara hid the shard of glass behind her.

�You there,� Emmara said. Her voice was dry. She hadn�t spoken in the better part of a day. �Please send for Captain Calomir. I have information for him.�

The guard sniffed, and didn�t raise his eyes to her. �He�s busy.�

�Please, it�s important. He�s to represent Selesnya in the dragon�s maze, and I have information he needs.�

�You�ll see Captain Calomir when Captain Calomir sees you, not before, traitor.�

�Without this information, our guild will fail.�

The Selesnya guard sneered. �You�re trying to trap me.�

�Bring a stunning spell, then, and use it on me if I attempt something. Or do you want me to tell him you were the one who prevented him from knowing what he needed to know in order to prevail in the maze?�

The guard wandered away from the door, mumbling.

That would have to do, she thought.

By the time Calomir came to the door, the sun was peeking through the cracks in the window boards again. She stood and held her hands behind her back, concealing the dagger of glass.

�You sent for me?� he asked.

�Come in,� she said.

The statuesque elf, or the being who had taken Calomir�s face, entered and closed the door behind him. He wore his Selesnya soldier�s uniform and sword. �Is everything all right?�

The man was a perfect facsimile of Calomir, to the point that Emmara was questioning herself even now. She couldn�t dismiss the urge to simply embrace him. But even if it were her Calomir, he had branded her a traitor to their guild, turned her home into a jail cell, and guided her guild toward violence and belligerence against the other guilds. Either way, he wasn�t the Calomir she remembered.

�You intend to represent our guild in the maze,� she said. �Perhaps I have information you need.�

�You�ve spoken to Beleren,� Calomir said. He glanced around the house. �He was here?�

�I�ll tell you what you want to know. But first there�s something I want to know from you.� Emmara�s hands trembled behind her back. She hoped she looked calm and cooperative. She cast her eyes down, then up into his. �I�ve been doing some thinking. Do you remember the day we met? In the Ovitzia District?�

�The day we���met?� His eyes darted for a moment, but he never lost his composure. �Of course.�

�You do?�

�You thought I�d forget a moment like that? Just because we�ve quarreled doesn�t mean I�m not the same man.�

Emmara looked straight into his eyes. He held her stare. �You said something to me that day,� she said. �Do you remember? You told me a joke. It was about one of the vendors at the market, or something. I thought it was so clever, so funny coming from a young, uniformed soldier of the Selesnya. Remember that?�

�Of course I remember.�

�Tell it to me again.�

�What, the joke? No, Emmara, not now.�

�Just say what you said.�

�A joke told on command has no humor to it.�

�But it was just so funny, the way you said it. It endeared me to you that day. I could use some of that, after how you�ve left me in here.�

�The dragon�s race is the important thing now.�

A cold shadow passed over Emmara�s heart. There was no such joke on the day they met�Calomir had never been much for verbal humor. And they had met here in the Tenth, not in the Ovitzia District. �You don�t remember that day, do you?�

�Enough of this. If this was all you had to tell me, I have to go. I need to prepare my team and be ready at the start of the maze, first thing tomorrow.�

Emmara remembered what Jace had said�that under no circumstances could Calomir be chosen as the Selesnya maze-runner. �Trostani chose you?�

He tipped his head and gave a faint smile. �I recommended myself, and she assented. And once I win the race for our guild, then we can see to your case. I can ask for leniency from the guildmaster. But you�ll have to remain cooperative.�

Emmara bit her lip and fingered the shard of glass. �I�ll be good.�

�I know you can be.�

�Calomir.�

�Yes?�

�Come here.� Emmara held one arm out to him, the other demurely behind her.

Calomir paused. But he went to her, and they wrapped their arms around each other.

Vines snaked out of the floorboards, slowly wrapping themselves around his feet and legs. Emmara clutched him and whispered in his ear. �You. Are not. Calomir.�

Calomir tried to pull away, but Emmara held him fast. She sunk the shard of glass into the center of his back. Calomir pushed her away. He craned his neck, trying to see and reach the shard, but it was just out of reach. He turned back to her.

�You little fool,� he said.

�How did you do it?� she hissed. �How did he die?�

�Shall I tell you you�re delusional now? That that mind mage has fed you lies and sickened your mind?� He tried to step toward her, but his feet wouldn�t move. He looked down and saw the roots and vines twisting around his ankles.

�Was it poison?� Emmara spat. �Did you slit his throat while he slept? Did you wring his neck with your own vile hands?�

Just then a Selesnya guard, the young man with the thin red beard again, looked in through the door. His face opened with surprise to see Captain Calomir under attack.

Emmara needed to keep the shapeshifter talking, and keep his attention on her. �You tell me,� she said. �You tell me how you murdered my Calomir. Tell me where you left his body, you thing.�

The shapeshifter smirked. His legs became like liquid for a moment, easily shedding Emmara�s vine spell, and he stepped toward her. Behind him, the guard�s eyes went wide.

�You�re not necessary,� the doppelganger said. �I was doing you a favor by allowing you to rot in here. You know I can take your form just as easily as I took his. Now I see that I should do you the same way I did him. It was with his own sword, by the way. This sword.� He unsheathed Calomir�s sword.

�You look like him. But you can never be him, Dimir deceiver.� Emmara did not look at the guard at the door for fear of alerting the shapeshifter to his presence, but she pronounced those last two words for his benefit.

The shapeshifter shifted his spine, and tendrils spread out from his back as his flesh rearranged itself. The shard of glass dropped out of his back and shattered on the floor. The shapeshifter stalked toward her, raising Calomir�s sword. She had no power to summon her elementals anymore. She had very little magic that could constrain a being with such a fluid form.

�It�ll look bad if you kill me,� she said.

�I�ll tell them the traitor tried to esc�� the shapeshifter began, but then he toppled forward and collapsed on the floor. Not dead, but not moving.

The red-bearded guard stood there, holding an artifact in the shape of a carved branch, an item designed to hold a spell�a stunning spell. The man looked terrified.

�You�ve done well, fellow soldier of Selesnya,� said Emmara.

The guard blinked at the prone shapeshifter. �That�s not Captain Calomir.�

�No. It�s a shapeshifter. A face-taker. And that spell won�t keep him down long. Give me your sword.�

�I�I don�t know���I can�t���

�Quickly! He�ll kill us both. He might even steal your face, and kill anyone who learns his secret.�

�I can�t kill a superior officer.�

�He�s not�� Emmara began. She stopped herself, and sighed. �It�s all right. Can you let me out of here? Trostani needs to know.�

The guard unlocked the door and let her out. Emmara slammed the door closed behind her. �I doubt it will do much to lock him in there, but it might slow him down.�

But when she looked back through the window in the door, the shapeshifter was melting into the floorboards, his liquefied body finding fine cracks in the wood and descending out of view. Emmara didn�t even have time to shout�he was gone, and she couldn�t detect which way he had slithered.

The ruddy-bearded Selesnya guard stood agape, taking in the barrage of new truths about Calomir and therefore about her guilt. �I���I�m sorry I doubted you, ma�am,� he said.

�That�s all right,� she said.

The guard bowed his head, this time not from disgust, but with respect. �I wish there was some way I could repay this slight against you, Dignitary.�

Emmara brushed house dust from her robes. �I could use a witness when I speak to the guildmaster.�

Jace materialized with his feet on worn stone, a quiet arrival. The spires and skywalks of Ravnica�s Tenth District soared above him, and pedestrians flowed around him. No one noticed his sudden appearance. The morning sun rose over a wide stone courtyard before him, an unusually open space in the middle of the district. Nine ancient obelisks surrounded the courtyard, each one marked with one of the guild signets�all but Dimir, which had once been an unacknowledged guild. At the base of each guild pillar was a kiosk where guild representatives handed out information about the guilds, and at the center of the courtyard, floating a few feet off the ground, was a massive stone dais. This place was the Forum of Azor, named after the founder of the Azorius guild, and Jace knew it was the endpoint of the maze, the finish line of the race that would soon be run.

Jace sensed the power contained here as a feeling of expectation, like waiting for a glacier to crack in the warmth of spring. The forum was the prize at the end of the labyrinth, an explosion of ancient power frozen in architecture and hidden in plain sight. The recruiters and guild hopefuls who lingered here didn�t seem to feel the power of the place. They treated it like any other public square in the Tenth, but the significance and concentrated mana of forum made the hairs on Jace�s neck stand on end. This was the center of all the lore that Jace had studied, forgotten, and relearned again, and this was the site of the ultimate prize that all the guilds sought. This was the place Jace had to understand, deeply and entirely, in order to make Emmara win.

For Emmara was the obvious choice. If any of the guilds had to take possession of the power embedded in this ancient place, the safest, least corruptible choice would be the Selesnya, the guild of life and unity. And if any of the Selesnya had to represent that winning guild, then Emmara should be the one to accept the prize. He knew she would do the right thing with the power contained here. He knew her victory was his purpose. All Jace had to do was give her all the advantages he could in the race to come. She would prevail, and perhaps the guilds wouldn�t resort to destroying each other.

Jace walked into the courtyard and beheld the floating monolith of rock that formed the dais. A staircase had been built to approach the dais, a blocky spiral around the rough slab of rock, so that the dais could be used for speeches or announcements. Jace climbed the staircase and stood on the dais. Prickling sensations spidered over his skin. The dais was like a bell that rang so low it couldn�t be heard, only felt. Jace reached his senses inside the monolith, trying to understand the source of the power. He needed to know what he would be handing to the Selesnya, to Emmara.

Jace couldn�t see into the interior of the floating slab of rock, but he sensed patterns within it�thoughtlike patterns. Mana flowed throughout the stone. Jace projected his mind into the space inside the rock and sensed a presence, a consciousness. The monolith was inhabited somehow. As Jace reached his senses into it, he perceived the shape of a human man in his mind�s eye. He wore layered robes in the Azorius style, like a guildmage or judge, but his skin was composed of coursing streaks of light. This man who somehow dwelled within the stone at the Forum of Azor had no eyes, as Jace perceived him. In place of eyes there were only empty holes in his face, and Jace had the sense that he could see through the empty eyeholes into the man�s hollow interior.

But the being had some kind of life to it. In Jace�s mind�s eye, he saw the man turn and regard him. Jace could sense intelligence of a kind coming from this being, so he reached out his mind to it.

�Pardon me,� Jace thought to the being.

�Greetings,� the being said. The voice felt soft, but with a feeling of force behind it. �I am the bailiff. I can provide information.�

�The bailiff?� Jace thought to it. �Are you Azor?�

�No. I am the executor of the bidding of Azor. I was created by him to enact his will.�

�You�re a magically-created intelligence. A homunculus.�

�I have not been furnished with the definition of that term. But you are correct that I am a being created by magic.�

�But you�re just a mind. You have no physical form. You�re bound here, to the Forum of Azor.�

The luminous being put his hands out in a symmetrical gesture, then folded them inside the sleeves of his robes. �I am exempt from physical form, yes. I am a being made of law. I am the regulations and specifications of the Assessment, and I am the mechanism by which it shall be conducted. And when I have made the Assessment, I shall be the one to deliver its verdict.�

When the bailiff said the last word, Jace felt the word crackling with constrained energy. Jace had the sense that this being was connected directly to Azor�s maze somehow, that he was its symbol, or its manifestation.

�You are the maze,� thought Jace. �You�re the agent of the maze itself.�

�The Implicit Maze is the form of the Assessment, and I am its executor.�

�So you�re using the maze to assess the guilds. From your perspective, the guilds are���on trial, in a way. You�re the judge.�

�It is not my judgment, but Azor�s. The Implicit Maze is the form of the Assessment, and I am its executor,� the bailiff repeated.

�You�re aware that the maze-runners are about to embark on the Implicit Maze?�

�Yes.�

�So, the maze-runners�they will receive something if they succeed?�

�I do not understand this query.�

Why didn�t the bailiff understand? Jace wondered. Wasn�t the whole purpose of the maze to hide its prize?

�Those who�ve been selected to stand trial for their guilds�the maze-runners,� Jace thought at the bailiff. �What are the conditions under which one of them will win?�

�There is no condition under which one shall win,� said the bailiff. �All shall succeed, or I shall deliver the Supreme Verdict. The success or failure of all of the guilds is at stake.�

Jace had learned that the maze�s purpose was to encourage cooperation between the guilds. But he had to know what that would mean for Emmara in particular, if he was going to send her into the danger of running the maze. �What do the guilds earn if they all succeed?�

�If they prove themselves equal to the task, then the most worthy shall actualize the Guildpact.�

�The Guildpact.� It was the magically-binding agreement that, until recently, had governed the guilds for thousands of years. �When the Guildpact was broken, that�s when you came alive, isn�t it?�

�The Assessment was initiated by the dissolution of the Guildpact.�

�So there will be a Guildpact again, like before?�

�If all succeed, then there shall be a Guildpact. But not like before.�

�What do you mean?�

�The most worthy shall actualize the Guildpact.�

The bailiff�s body swirled with light, which Jace felt as a pressure in his mind. Jace felt great power behind the bailiff�s presence, and fatigue crept over him as he kept his mind connected to it.

�All right, so the winner will rekindle the Guildpact somehow. Good. That�s good. But what happens if the guilds do not succeed?�

The bailiff shimmered. He blinked, but his eyes were still empty holes. �Then I shall deliver the verdict.�

�What is the verdict?�

�It is the Supreme Verdict of Azor.�

�But what does that entail?�

�If, in the course of the Assessment, one or more of the guilds� chosen do not appear for the final sentencing, then the Guildpact cannot be actualized.�

�Wait. They all have to appear? They all have to make it here, to the Forum of Azor?�

�That is the Assessment. That is what is meant by the success of all.�

�And if they don�t? No Guildpact?�

�All will have failed the Assessment. The will of Azor will be to deliver the verdict.�

�And you can�t tell me anything more about the verdict? Is it dangerous?�

�The Supreme Verdict of Azor always fits the crime.�

Jace took a breath. The bailiff�s words whirled through his thoughts. He turned and scanned around the forum. Guild representatives worked the recruiting kiosks around the forum�s outer ring, calling out to passersby who looked mostly disinterested. They were real, flesh-and-blood people, totally unlike the magically-constructed bailiff. Communicating with the bailiff felt like interacting with an extremely logical ghost, a presence made of logic, the embodiment of a strict rule.

Except that this embodiment didn�t seem particularly forthcoming about specifics. This verdict was still a mystery. Jace had thought that by learning the maze�s route, he knew how to ensure Emmara�s victory�but now it seemed that something could go horribly wrong if the maze-runners did not successfully advance all the way to the end of the maze. Jace tried to think like the mage Azor. What use was it to create a bailiff to carry out your supreme verdict, if you didn�t give it the ability to explain what that was? What use was it to create all of these conditions and potentially dire consequences, if no one could know what they were?

Azor must have had his reasons. The Guildpact was a force for stability on Ravnica, the mortar that kept its bricks fused together, and he must have feared its loss terribly. He was the founder of the guild of prudence and law�the thought of the senseless chaos of ten short-sighted, clashing guilds would have weighed on him more than any other.

�Thank you,� Jace thought to the being in the rock.

He let his communion with the bailiff fade, but he could still sense the being�s presence there in the stone, waiting. The bailiff, or the magic behind it, felt immensely powerful, like a massive quantity of mana crushed into a singularity and contained there. Maybe it was just his unanswered questions about the verdict, but he felt a sense of dread, as if he were standing on a bomb.

Whatever the nature of this power stored at the Forum of Azor, it was profound, primordial, and plane-altering. If the power of the bailiff was any indication, the verdict was something to be avoided at all costs. Jace needed to find Emmara, but even before that, he needed to know more about what he was getting her into. He thought he knew someone he could ask.

Trostani�s grove felt like it was made of eyes. The soldiers of Selesnya posted in the grove stared at Emmara as she approached, and the three interwoven dryads regarded her with quizzical looks. The red-bearded guard walked at her side, looking abashed before the guildmaster.

�What is the meaning of this?� Trostani asked. �Where is Captain Calomir?�

�He fled,� said Emmara. �I�m here to persuade you to choose me as the Selesnya maze-runner in his stead.�

�Of course not. Captain Calomir and I have discussed this at length. We had hope for you once, Emmara, but Calomir has proved himself the true manifestation of the will of us all, the avatar of the Conclave.�

�The one you believe to be Calomir is a Dimir spy.�

Trostani�s three faces all recoiled. �Now you sound like your friend Beleren. What gives you the right to make accusations like this? Guards, take this traitor back into custody.�

The young guard at Emmara�s side cut in. �It�s true, Guildmaster Trostani,� he said. �That�thing�wasn�t the captain. I saw it change. It was a doppelganger. A shapeshifter.�

�That�s impossible. Calomir is one of the Conclave�s oldest allies.�

Emmara�s face was steel. �Calomir is dead.�

�Even if that were true, you think that we�re going to send you to represent the Conclave? You, who refused to support us in the battle with the Rakdos? You, who�ve consorted with that mind mage?�

�Yes.�

�Why should we?�

�Because only I know the route.�

Trostani�s faces scowled. The three dryads turned and conferred among each other. Emmara couldn�t hear what they whispered to each other, but she could hear the distress in their voices. There was a new, upsetting sound to their voices, something Emmara couldn�t identify at first. She realized the sound was dissent. Two of the dryads seemed to be disagreeing with the third, breaking their usual harmony. Emmara had never heard anything but unanimity from them�they were a living symbol of many made one. She saw the three faces look back at her frequently, one of them with pained empathy, the other two with withering derision.

She felt the eyes of the Conclave on her again. The glares of the soldiers around the grove bored into her. They, too, were put on edge by Trostani�s dispute, and they knew she was the one who had brought it to the Conclave. They had not seen the shapeshifter melt away, taking Calomir�s visage with him. To them, she was still an enemy of the guild.

The dryads of Trostani finally came to some kind of resolution. They turned and took a long look at Emmara, and their faces were not at peace.

It was the day the dragon had appointed for the maze to begin. Under the curving archways of the Transguild Promenade, Jace surveyed the teams from the sidelines, hiding his location, trying to find one particular woman�s face. He recognized many of the faces, but didn�t see Emmara�s.

There was Exava, effulgent in a new war ensemble featuring shoulder torches and a full spine of shining metal spikes, surrounded by a small horde of burly Rakdos warriors.

There was Ruric Thar, the presumptive Gruul maze-runner, accompanied by the same war party. Ruric and Thar looked bored and impatient, and members of his war party snarled and chest-thumped at anyone who made eye contact with them.

�Move,� growled a guttural voice, and Jace jumped and turned around. A troll lumbered past him, his skin covered in scars and mushroom-like growths. It was Varolz, the Golgari troll he had encountered when tracking down Emmara in the undercity. He was flanked by a trio of dreadlocked elf shamans, all of them wearing a splotchy Golgari guild symbol over their faces in white paint. They moved past him toward the Promenade, scratching their skin and squinting suspiciously at the sun, looking thoroughly uncomfortable to be above ground.

Hovering five feet in the air, concealed in a pocket of shadow under one of the curving columns of the Promenade, was a figure that Jace recognized as Mirko Vosk. He looked to be alone, but Jace didn�t trust that the vampire didn�t have other Dimir agents hidden everywhere. Jace had last left Vosk deep underground, and wondered how he came to be the Dimir maze-runner.

A council of well-armed Azorius lawmages did their best to look composed and nonchalant, but by the way they shifted their feet and constantly sized up the other guild teams, Jace could tell they were out of their element. Jace recognized Lavinia among them, who stood on two feet, immovable as a pillar, one hand on her sword hilt. She barely moved, but Jace could see her eyes scanning the buildings beyond the assembled crowd, possibly even looking for him.

Representing the Orzhov was a tall, well-dressed noblewoman Jace didn�t recognize. The identities of the Orzhov knights around her were concealed by full helmets; instead of faces they bore only the Orzhov�s black sunburst symbol. Small, ugly, gray-skinned servant creatures attended to their black capes. Jace noticed that Orzhov priests were filtering through the crowd, whispering to the other competitors, probably asking, or offering bribes, for information. Jace knew the Izzet had researched the maze heavily, and the Dimir and the Gruul at least had an inkling of what was going on. He wondered how the other guilds would fare, how much they knew of the route.

A brown-bearded, broad-chested man clad in massive-shouldered plate armor led a battalion of soldiers, the symbol of the Boros Legion emblazoned on white cloth draped over their armor. Their soldiers were a variety of races, including humans, a minotaur with a permanent scowl on her face, an impatient-looking goblin, and even some kind of humanoid fire elemental, whose Boros armor floated in protective positions over its animate flame.

The Simic representative was a stern-looking mage whose parentage appeared to be partly human and partly aquatic, possibly merfolk; he rode astride a creature that seemed the offspring of a giant, blue-carapaced crab and an irate squid. The Simic squad was rounded out by a host of mages clad in scale armor, and improbable hybrid fusions of scaled, finned, and shelled creatures. Jace had not had occasion to encounter the Simic Combine directly, but knew that their vision of progress was in expanding the accepted boundaries of what constituted living things, and their strange menagerie certainly attested to that.

An Izzet mage, the same man who presented the dragon�s announcement at the Rough Crowd battle, stood atop a ten-sided wooden stage in the center of the Promenade, surrounded by a group of other mages. Next to him was an icy, loosely humanoid elemental that looked like a cross between multiple forms of energy. No doubt it was some creation of the Izzet, but whether it was an actual entrant or a companion to the other Izzet guild members, Jace could not discern.

The Izzet mage�s bronze-colored gauntlet crackled with jagged arcs of lightning as he raised it, calling for silence.

�Attention maze-runners and delegations of the guilds,� he said. �I am Ral Zarek, official representative for the Izzet League.� Some of the crowd grunted and groaned. Zarek�s upper lip flared in a sneer of contempt. �You are all here because the Great Firemind Niv-Mizzet has invited you to take part in his grand Izzet experiment, the race of the Implicit Maze.�

The crowd grumbled and catcalled. �It�s not your maze, madman!� yelled a Boros soldier.

�Just start the killing already,� a Rakdos warrior hooted.

Jace scanned the crowd. No Selesnya delegation had arrived. No Emmara.

�You should feel very fortunate that you are being included in this experiment,� continued Zarek. �We have determined that participation of all the guilds is required. In a few moments, the official maze-runners will take their place in the square, and the race will begin. The maze requires that your official runner be present at each maze location. Once your runner has entered, no other being will be considered able to trace the route for your guild.�

�What do we win?� called one of the Boros legionnaires.

�The prize has not been announced,� said Zarek.

�Because you don�t know!� the man jeered.

A crack of thunder rattled the naked sky, and many in the crowd jumped. �You only reveal your own ignorance, soldier,� Zarek said. �Although this may appear to be a game, this maze is very serious, indeed. The route has been a secret since the time of the paruns. Its discovery was only made possible by the death of the Guildpact that once barred the guilds from war. And its completion will prove which guilds shall kneel, and which guild shall rule.�

Even the more orderly guilds shouted their objections to that. The Boros had their weapons in hand, battle faces on. The troll Varolz snarled and beat his chest with his huge club. The Azorius lawmages surrounding Lavinia chanted some kind of protection spell, scribing runes on the air in a circle around their delegation.

�Now approach, runners!� Zarek called over the crowd. �Tell me your name and guild, and have your champion counted.�

One by one, the chosen runners from all the assembled guilds approached Zarek at the stage. Jace plied the crowd with his mind, trying to identify Emmara�s thoughts, but found nothing.

�Commander Tajic of the Boros Legion.�

�Lavinia of the Tenth District, official delegate for the Azorius Senate.�

�Varolz. Golgari.�

�Ruric Thar. The Gruul will devour this city!� Roars of enthusiasm.

�Vorel of the Hull Clade. Simic Combine.�

�Teysa Karlov, envoy for the ruling council of the Orzhov Syndicate.�

�Eksssss-ava!� cried Exava. �Of the illustrious cult of our demonic lord, Rakdooos!� Her Rakdos warriors yelled and cheered, stabbing the air with a variety of blades, flails, and spiked clubs.

Mirko Vosk floated over to the stage and whispered something.

�I�m sorry?� said Zarek.

�Mirko Vosk,� said Vosk, barely audible.

�What guild?� Zarek said.

�House Dimir.�

Zarek nodded. �Is there a Selesnya delegate?� He looked around. �Selesnya?�

�Start without the tree-lovers,� snorted Tajic, the Boros runner, to a chorus of agreement.

�As much as I would love to,� said Zarek, �we can�t begin without them.�

�I�m here,� came a voice, and the crowd parted to reveal Emmara.

Jace let go of a breath he didn�t realize he had been holding.

All eyes turned to look at her. She looked strange somehow, though nothing was different about her appearance. Jace realized that she had no delegation: no elvish wolf-riders at her sides, no Conclave priests or woodshapers, no Calomir on his white rhino. She was alone, an aberration for the guild founded on the value of community. Hairs stood up on Jace�s neck, but he didn�t know why.

She walked to the stage by herself.

�Emmara Tandris, for the Selesnya Conclave.�

�Very well,� said Zarek, his lips cocked sideways in a half grin as he recorded her name.

From his hiding place among the crowd, Jace reached out to Emmara and touched minds with her. He encountered Emmara�s familiar flow of surface thoughts and emotions, and felt a flood of relief. He realized that for a moment, he wasn�t entirely sure the shapeshifter Lazav hadn�t taken her place.

�Good to see you,� Jace thought into Emmara�s mind.

To her credit, her face did not let on that she had heard him. She stared straight up at Zarek, thinking back, �Jace! Where are you?�

�I�m here, at the promenade, with you. Don�t look for me. But I�m with you.�

�I made it here, thanks to you. And I know the route. Jace�you were right about Calomir.�

�Oh. You faced him. I�m sorry.�

�That thing that killed Calomir is still at large. But I made it here.�

�Looks like the Conclave didn�t offer you much support.�

�Even knowing the truth about Calomir, it took a lot to convince them to send me. I think I�ve caused a crisis for Trostani, and for the guild. I think they believe I�ll be less trouble running around the city than stuck there in the Conclave.�

�Then she doesn�t know you very well.�

Jace could see her smile a tiny smile.

Next to Ral Zarek, the elemental creature stepped forward, clashing energies swirling within its body. �And I am Melek,� it said, bowing slightly, its voice buzzing and artificial. �I shall be the maze-runner chosen to represent the�� It stopped, interrupted by Zarek, who raised his gauntlet to ask for silence.

�And I am Ral Zarek,� said Zarek, smirking and imitating the elemental�s voice. With sudden violence, Zarek rammed his gauntlet through the back of the elemental creature, causing a jolt of electricity to crackle. The gauntlet absorbed the electric essence from the Izzet elemental, causing it to hunch and shudder. Sparks flowed out of the elemental runner, depleting it of one of its two elements, leaving behind only a skeleton of ice. Zarek gritted his teeth as the Izzet elemental�s power flowed into him, sending jolts of electricity throughout his body.

After a moment, the former Izzet maze-runner fell onto the stage, a heap of lifeless, steaming ice. �I am Ral Zarek, and I will represent the Izzet,� he announced.

Jace scanned the crowd. All the guilds� delegations were agitated; they knew nothing would be certain in this race. �Get ready,� he thought to Emmara.

�We now have all ten represented,� said Zarek. �All the eyes of Ravnica are on us, the chosen champions of the guilds. And all of history hence will look back to this day. And now, please listen carefully for the rules.�

The rowdier guilds growled in complaint at the mention of rules. Zarek raised his gauntlet high above his head.

Zarek blasted an omnidirectional pulse of lightning out from his gauntlet. A wave of electricity cascaded from his hand, striking the competitors nearest the stage, knocking them flat and leaving them stunned. The stage broke into pieces, erupting with a flurry of small, foxlike lightning elementals. The elementals leaped on anyone and everyone, biting flesh with teeth made of raw static charge.

�There are no rules,� said Zarek.

Chaos. The crowd of guild teams, caught flatfooted, broke into a screaming mob, running in all directions. Competitors dispersed the spark elementals with sword or spell, but the fighting cost them precious moments.

Emmara had been close to Zarek�s lightning spell, and was just looking down at her hands, shuddering. Jace dashed out of hiding, grabbed her shoulders, and led her out of the center of the chaos, throwing dismissal spells to evaporate lightning elementals in their path. Emmara moved stiffly, and wisps of smoke wafted from her collar. The lightning had left a black, charred spot on the front of her robe.

�Let�s go, my maze-runner,� he said as soothingly as he could. �Move those legs. One foot after the other.�

Jace glanced around. Zarek and his entourage had already disappeared. This was the beginning of the race, he thought. This was the beginning of Azor�s test.

Mirko Vosk caught his eye, and disappeared into a bank of shadows.

The teams dispersed. The Gruul war party headed in the direction of Gnat Alley, a twisting route through ramshackle dive taverns and thieves� dens. The Simic mages directed their hybridized beasts into an undercity entrance and disappeared. Several of the guilds headed back in the direction Emmara had come. Jace guessed they were all operating on as much of the route as they knew, and that some guilds might even be navigating blind, choosing gates at random.

Emmara blinked, recovering from Ral Zarek�s electro-shock spell, and Jace let her stand under her own power. She seemed to notice he was supporting her, and she nodded in thanks. She put her arms around his neck.

�So it�s begun,� she said.

Jace tried to look as reassuring and as confident as he could. �It has. And you�re going to win it.�

�I�m not sure I can,� she said. �After you sent me the route, I planned it all out. I had big plans. I was going to come backed by a full force of elementals�towering protectors to help us smash our way through the city.�

Jace raised his eyebrows. �That�s a good plan. I like that plan.�

�But I can�t. Trostani took that power from me.�

�She what? How?�

�She revoked my possession of it. That spell was hers. It belonged to the Conclave. It was just on loan to me.�

Jace kept his hand at her back, preventing her from falling. �No matter. We�ll manage.�

�How, Jace? They�re out for blood. Look at them�they all have teams. They have armies.�

�We�re smarter. More knowledgeable. And a lot better looking.�

�Don�t joke. You heard the Izzet runner�there are no rules. Do you know what the best strategy is in a competition without rules? To kill all the other competitors. They�re going to eat me alive.�

�Not going to happen. We can do this. I sent you the route. You know the first part.�

Emmara took a breath and centered herself with a little shrug. �Back to the Selesnya gate.�

�Yes. That�ll be an easy one.�

Emmara shot him a look. �You really think there are going to be any easy ones?�

�No, I suppose not. Listen. Zarek and the Izzet will already be there. Let�s move.�

�I have to face those people again�Trostani and the rest. I�m not sure I can.�

�What choice do we have?�

Emmara squared her shoulders. �You�re right. So, hire a griffin?�

Jace glanced at the teams that were still lingering around the promenade. The Golgari team was preparing its pack insect. The creature was much taller than it was long, its carapace-covered body rising higher than some of the buildings, like a spider on stilts. It squatted hideously, and the Golgari elves climbed onto a pair of leather saddles on its back. The troll Varolz ran off ahead of the creature, toward the Selesnya part of town.

�I have a better plan,� Jace said.

�I suppose it keeps us low-profile,� came Emmara�s thoughts in Jace�s mind.

�Exactly,� Jace thought to her. �Comfort is secondary.�

The Golgari longlegs jerked in its gait, its too-numerous knees clicking and popping as it strode. Jace and Emmara clung to the saddle straps on its underbelly. Jace had a curious view of the street, hanging upside-down. Emmara had her eyes closed.

�Secondary?� Emmara thought. �Pretty sure comfort is coming in dead last at this particular moment.�

�How�s your grip? You holding on all right?�

�Stop talking in my skull. I�m concentrating on ways to kill you later.�

�Big step coming up,� thought Jace.

Jace and Emmara�s grip was tested as the longlegs clambered over a snarl of halted traffic. The creature was perfectly adapted to navigating Ravnica�s streets, able to keep three limbs on the ground as two or three more selected new footing a thirty-foot stride away. But it was not designed for traveling luxury. As the creature�s body lurched, Jace and Emmara lurched with it, and the momentum tested their grip. Jace lost his grasp with his legs and swung free from his arms. Emmara let go with one of her hands and grabbed his cloak, in case he fell, but she lost stability in the process, and she let out an involuntary grunt as his weight yanked on her.

Jace clung with his hands, his feet dangling two stories over the street traffic, watching the back of Varolz as he ran ahead, hoping he would not turn around to see them.

�Can you grab my leg?� Jace thought.

�How did I let you talk me into this?�

As Jace hung with his leg hooked into the stilt-walker�s straps, they approached their next destination.

The Selesnya guildgate was built into a massive wall of white marble hung with curtains of soft-leafed ivy. The archway of the gate rose high enough for a nature elemental to pass through it, and so the Golgari longlegs would have no trouble fitting through. But as soon as they crossed into Selesnya territory, archers appeared along the top of the gate. Arrows whistled.

The Golgari creature screeched, bristling with feather-fletched arrow shafts, and lurched sideways, its knees crumpling. It ricocheted against the side of the arch and fell from its feet, sending Jace, Emmara, and the Golgari elves tumbling. Jace crashed to the ground, but scrambled to his feet. He could see the archers�but something was strange about them. They weren�t in Selesnya uniform. They were of the Simic guild�this was a Simic ambush.

Jace looked up to see Emmara rolling to a halt, facing up at the Simic maze-runner, Vorel.

�Elf,� said Vorel, looking down at Emmara. �An antique specimen. Unmodified. Unevolved. Soon to be obsolete.�

Vorel�s familiar, the enormous crab-beast, pinned her to the ground with a heavy pincer, and Jace heard the hiss of her breath escaping her chest.

�Leave her,� Jace warned, conjuring a spell.

Vorel looked at him. �Human. Unmodified. More untapped potential.�

Jace looked around for some kind of Selesnya force to help. There was no sign of the Selesnya here. It was as Emmara had described�they had abandoned her. They weren�t even participating enough to guard their own gate.

The Simic runner Vorel crouched down to Emmara, tilting his head as if studying an odd insect. �Your life does not fit the Simic vision of the future.� He pressed on the crab�s pincer, pushing it into Emmara�s sternum.

Suddenly, a ring of swords surrounded Vorel. Selesnya soldiers had appeared, encircling the Simic delegation. Even the crab creature had a team of stern-looking Selesnya guards around it.

�Release her,� said one of the soldiers.

Vorel looked down the line of one of the blades, down to the prone form of Emmara. His head shook in a moment of reevaluation. �Let us go,� he said, and the crab-beast disengaged.

Emmara took a breath.

The Selesnya soldiers didn�t touch Vorel or his entourage. They backed away and let the Simic delegation through. Vorel climbed onto the crab-thing�s back and they rode off through Selesnya territory toward the next gate.

When they had gone, Jace exhaled. Emmara stood on her feet and looked around. �Thank you,� she said to the soldiers around her. �That meant a lot to me.�

�Emmara, I�m sorry,� said Jace.

�For what?�

Jace dropped his spell, and the Selesnya soldiers dissolved, unraveling into threads of azure light, and disappeared.

Emmara sighed in disappointment. �Illusions. You conjured an illusionary army.�

�It was all I could think of to drive off the Simic,� said

Jace.

�For a moment there I thought you had changed the minds of everyone in the Selesnya Conclave,� said Emmara.

�Considered it,� said Jace, half under his breath.

Emmara gathered herself and brushed foliage off her robe. She gave Jace a look. �What�s it like to be you, Jace? To be able to do what you do? What are your limits?�

Jace let his hood fall across his face. �No one can ever know.� He could feel that she wanted to reach out to him, to connect with him, but he turned back toward the maze path. If she knew what he was capable of, if she knew his true nature, she would never trust him again.

�What does that mean? Do you hide something from me?� Emmara�s voice was playful, but her questions were serious. �What are the secrets of Jace Beleren?�

�We should go. The Golgari await.�

The Azorius guildgate was an arch made of arches, faultless gray stone bent around a curve, architecturally perfect in pattern and form. A bank of steps swept up to the gate, and the great triangle of the Azorius guild symbol hung above like a watchful eye.

Azorius guards halted Jace and Emmara, and Vorel and his remaining Simic warriors behind them. The guards didn�t advance until the moment Jace put one foot on the first step, at which point they whipped their swords out and crossed them in front of his path.

Lavinia stepped down the stairs toward them. Behind her was Kavin, or Lazav with Kavin�s face. He wore a thin smile on his lips, an expression that the impassive Kavin never showed. It struck Jace suddenly that Kavin was probably dead.

�It�s good to see you, Kavin,� said Jace. �You�re looking well. Much better than when I saw you last, in fact.�

�Still meddling in guild affairs, it seems,� said Kavin. �Spreading lies, interfering in a guild competition���

Jace nudged an Azorius guard�s blade out of his face with his finger. �I don�t suppose you could let us pass,� he said, looking to Lavinia.

Kavin leaned in close to Lavinia and whispered something in her ear.

�The maze-runners may pass,� said Lavinia. �But only them. Beleren and the rest will remain behind.�

�I�m not going through without them,� said Vorel, flanked by his Simic followers. �And no guild of archaic rules-worshipers is going to stop us.�

Lavinia lashed out with law magic. Dazzling light blasted out from her, and when Jace�s eyes adjusted again, each member of Vorel�s entourage was enveloped in a glowing sphere of Azorius runes. Vorel�s soldiers were held frozen, incapacitated, unreachable.

�Release them!� Vorel shouted.

�They were trespassing on Azorius territory without a writ of passage signed by, or special consent given by, an authorized Azorius official,� said Lavinia. �But you and the elf may accompany me through the gate.�

�What are you up to?� Jace demanded. He asked it of the shapeshifter, but Lavinia answered as if the question were addressed to her.

�I now understand that the Implicit Maze is a test of our cooperation,� said Lavinia. �Of unity. The maze-runners shall proceed through unharmed, as our guild�s founder would have it. That is the true path to victory for all of us�and the path that will prevent a dire catastrophe.�

�Did he tell you all that?� Jace asked, jutting his chin at the vedalken man.

�Even with your criminal memory intrusion, Kavin is far more knowledgeable about the maze than you ever realized,� said Lavinia.

�Kavin is dead,� said Jace.

Out of the corner of his eye, Jace noticed Emmara shooting him a look. Then she narrowed her eyes at the shapeshifter.

�Your lies have a note of desperation to them, Beleren,� said Lavinia. �It�s time I got you off the streets of my district.�

On a hunch, Jace prepared countermagic, but he felt his spell suppressed, perhaps from the Azorius guards, or by some consequence of the huge Azorius symbol staring down at him.

�I�ve waited a long time to say this.� Lavinia summoned twin bracelets of shimmering runes around Jace�s hands. �Jace Beleren, by the authority of the Azorius Senate, you are under arrest.�

�What are you doing?�

�You are wanted by the Azorius Senate for conspiracy and high crimes against the public order.�

�You damned fool,� said Jace. �You need me. I know you know about the verdict. This whole place could go.�

�The maze is Azorius magic. Leave it to us. For now, this is my district again.�

�You�re making a mistake,� said Emmara. �Don�t do this. We need him.�

�Emmara, go,� said Jace. �Take Vorel. Catch up with the other maze-runners. I�ll find you.�

�I�m not leaving you here,� she said.

Kavin put his hand on Jace�s shoulder, to lead him up the stairs and into Azorius territory. Jace gave him a withering look, but kept himself calm.

�Emmara, you must,� he said. �Just get to the end, without violence if you can. Go.�

The decision was guilty, and the sentence was freedom. Guards escorted Jace to the Azorius guildgate and dispelled his shackles. He needed to catch up to Emmara, and fast.

Jace followed the route through a stretch of Azorius territory, cutting through an alleyway when the route demanded it. He had to climb an old metal ladder up the side of an abandoned building, trying to follow the path as best he could. The route was established thousands of years before; the architecture of the city must have changed around it since then. He climbed through a hole that was once a window frame. It looked like beings much larger than him had already passed through here.

He reached out to feel the reassuring touch of Emmara�s mind again, but she was nowhere to be found. Without Emmara nearby, it would take him hours to reach out to her mind again. He could only move to the next landmark of the maze, and hope she was making progress through the gates.

The next gate was Dimir.

Jace passed out of Azorius territory. With his magical senses he could perceive the flow of mana that marked the maze�s path, channeling like a midair stream down the center of the Azorius zone. In the Azorius area, the stream of mana followed the shape of the streets closely, and Jace was able to move quickly to follow its path. Up ahead the path led out of Azorius territory through an elaborate checkpoint. Some two dozen people were backed up at the checkpoint as the Azorius guards tried to verify permits. Jace cloaked himself in a blending spell, silently thanking the Azorius for employing guardians who had minds he could easily affect, and slipped through the checkpoint.

The stretch in between was rougher going. The other guild teams had already come this way, and the street quality showed it. The path took a strange diagonal up through empty air, connecting with a raised walkway supported by sturdy stone columns.

The passageway seemed to stretch on to the horizon, darkening as it went.

The path ended in a drab, unmarked brick wall. Jace touched it. Solid, rather like a wall.

Footprints in the dust indicated that the other maze-runners had probably been here recently. But there were no signs of destruction of the wall, or of a way that a secret door could move. Jace patted the wall with his hand again. He thought back to the way Lazav and his Dimir agents used a spell to push him through solid stone and drop him in that subterranean cell. He could use something like that now.

But somehow Jace doubted that the other teams of mages had spontaneously managed to come up with a Dimir spell on the spot. There had to be another answer.

The Dimir guild thrived on deception and manipulation. They relied on illusion magic and mind-altering magic just as Jace did. Perhaps this wall wasn�t as solid as it seemed. Perhaps it took a measure of disbelief to see through the illusion.

He steeled himself, then walked purposefully right at the wall in the spirit of discovery. His nose bent painfully as he flattened himself against the wall�s solidity.

He heard the sound of someone snickering at him. He turned around. An old viashino stood nearby.

�What�s the matter, door doesn�t have enough handles for you?� asked the viashino.

He looked to be the same wry lizardfolk that he had seen when he first headed down into the undercity to pursue Emmara.

�I really thought that would be it,� Jace said.

Jace checked the flow of mana again. It went directly through here.

�The trick with Dimir entrances,� said the viashino, �is that you have to feel what the Dimir feel.�

�What do they feel?�

�What do you think they feel?�

Jace thought for a moment. �Anger.�

The viashino gave a snort through his nostrils. �Rarely.�

�Arrogance.�

�That�s closer. But the arrogant don�t believe they�re arrogant. Think about how they would characterize it.�

�Superiority.�

�Now you�re on to something.�

�I have to feel superior to this wall?�

The viashino shrugged. �Or you could remain strictly inferior to it.�

Jace turned back to the wall. From the bent shape of his nose, he knew he didn�t feel any superiority over this nemesis of brick.

He walked toward it again, belittling the magic of this wall with all his thoughts, scoffing internally at whatever mage bothered to try to keep him out, conjuring up a derisive one-syllable laugh toward the very idea of attempting to negate his will to pass.

He passed.

On the other side of the wall, Jace was somehow much deeper under the ground than his senses told him he should be. The dank echoes of the undercity were becoming familiar music to him, but these tunnels carried unpleasant, whispering voices, half-heard and incomprehensible in meaning, like the stuttered ravings of faraway madmen. These passages were maintained by House Dimir, meant to hide the missions of Dimir agents; Jace traveled where assassins and thieves made their routes under the district. Patterns on Jace�s cloak flared to life. His boots splashed down a flight of stairs.

Jace took turn after twisting turn. The tunnel constricted to a crawlspace for a time, and widened again into a rubble-strewn chamber, then became unfinished cavern drowned with a bone-chilling river, then rejoined a masonry-lined tunnel again. Jace heard nonsensical voices that often sounded as close as his ear, and tried not to think about whether it was the acoustics of the undercity or the nearness of haunting denizens.

When he emerged, he let the subtle gloom of the undercity cling to him. He had several more gates to go to catch up, and he would need all the stealth he could muster.

Jace and Emmara had passed through the Simic gate and now approached the zone of alchemical machinery and steam-driven arcana known as Izzet territory. Jace tried to watch the sky for the draconic shape of Niv-Mizzet, but he was oddly focused on how the strands of Emmara�s hair moved. A storm brewed over the Izzet area of the district, with attendant rolls of thunder, and drops had begun to spatter on the streets.

�Where did Vorel get off to?� Jace asked.

It felt strange talking with Emmara out loud. Somehow it was a bit embarrassing after all their mental speech. It was too real, too out in the open.

�I lost Vorel at the Gruul gate,� said Emmara. �Or rather, he lost me. Some of the Gruul seemed to know him. There may have been some bad blood there. But he made it out, I found out later. I saw him pass ahead of me just before running into the Orzhov.�

�And the other gates? How have you fared?�

�I�m in one piece,� she said. �I don�t think I�m winning this thing, though.�

A force of Izzet goblins came around the corner, recognized them, and charged at them with fire-tipped pole weapons. Jace pinpointed their minds as they rushed, and the goblins fell asleep in mid-charge, clanging onto the cobblestones in their bronze-colored metal armor. Jace walked on without breaking his stride.

�I don�t think you need to end up at the Forum of Azor first,� Jace said. �I just have to make sure you�re there, and in one piece. You�ll do the rest. You have a way of uniting people, of bringing them together. And I�m starting to see that that�s the most important thing in this world.�

�Jace,� Emmara said.

The way she said his name made him halt and turn to her.

�Yes?�

Her eyes searched his face, as if she sought for an answer that might be written there. For some reason, Jace thought of Calomir. He realized he had never actually met the man she had loved, that the real Calomir was a memory by the time Jace had met Lazav�s imitation of him. �I know all of this has been hard for you,� he said.

�Tell me you don�t have secrets from me,� she said.

�I��� Jace said, and stopped.

He saw the longing in her face. She had been through so much with Lazav�s deception, and she was still struggling to cope with the fact of Calomir�s death. She had been abandoned by her guild and left to fend for herself. She wanted so badly to put her trust in someone that it made Jace ache to see it.

He knew he kept so much from her, to shield her from the difficult realities of his life. He knew she could never know of his true nature, of the existence of other worlds beyond her own, of how strange and twisted his past was. But he longed to give her the reassurance she sought, to prove to her that she could trust him if only to prove to her that people could be trusted. She wanted to believe in people, and he wanted to give her the gift of one moment where she could feel she wouldn�t be betrayed. And at that moment, he wondered whether that trust wasn�t more important than the truth.

�I�d never keep secrets from you,� he said.

It stung to say, but her relief was his reward. She smiled and grabbed his arm, and for a moment, she pressed her smile into his shoulder.

Thunder pealed as they neared the Izzet gate.

�Let me check up ahead,� said Jace, feeling a tiny bit invincible. �I�ll come back for you when I know it�s safe, and we�ll cross through the Izzet gate together.�

Emmara arched an amused eyebrow.

�I know, I know,� he said. �You�re just as often the one getting me out of scrapes. But humor my protective instincts this time, and grant me this one.�

�Granted,� Emmara said. �But I get to choose how long to wait before I come bail you out.�

�Agreed.�

The path had led Emmara to Rix Maadi, the palace that served as the center of the Rakdos guild�s brainsick celebrations. She followed the images that Jace had flashed into her head, taking a turn down an obsidian staircase whose steps sagged in the middle from centuries of use. She passed under a series of grandiose but lurid archways, carved in red stone in the shapes of nightmarish faces and leering, cherubic imps. No one stopped her as she delved deeper, and she caught herself wondering whether any of the arches she passed might have been the Rakdos guildgate. Perhaps she might be done already, and could leave this place without seeing a soul. But Jace�s instructions told her the true gate still lay ahead, and her sense of dread told her it was not going to be as simple as she hoped. She marched on, deeper into Rix Maadi, trying not to think about what dark liquid might be dripping down the walls.

When she entered the large chamber, she knew she had arrived. It was a subterranean chamber, but it had more in common with an opulent throne room than a cave. Braziers burned, their flames rising toward the ceiling like lush tapestries. Cords of iron chains were draped from the ceiling, and a hot stench blew up from iron grates in the floor. On the other side of the great hall, up a series of steps, was an enormous arched doorway, crowned with the horned face of the demon Rakdos. That was the Rakdos gate, leading into dark smoke.

And she was not alone.

�Hello, darling,� said Exava the blood-witch. She stepped down the series of shallow stairs. Two Rakdos cultists offered her swords to her by the hilt, and she took them without glancing away from Emmara. �Tandris, isn�t it? I�ve been hoping you�d come to play.� Exava swung her swords in curves, and the metal flashed in the firelight.

�Our quarrel is over,� said Emmara. She walked forward slowly, wrists at her sides. �The Selesnya ends its dispute with the Rakdos. You may let me pass without fear of retribution.�

�Your words contradict your actions, Miss Tandris,� said Exava. �You can�t end this. Not with our blood on your hands. You slaughtered six of my Rakdos cultists.�

Emmara did not raise her voice. �Your cultists showed they were eager to die the day they came to seize me.�

�And will you do the same for your guild? Will you die for Selesnya?�

�My life belongs to my guild.�

�Ah, a fellow fanatic,� said Exava. She strode forward, letting the edges of her two blades sizzle against each other. �We have something in common, elf. We both believe in a higher power. We both know that our hearts only beat at the pleasure of a higher cause.�

�I serve the living Conclave. Not a sadistic horror from a pit.�

�Doesn�t matter, though, does it? Not when the call comes down to surrender your life for what you believe. Not when the guildmaster speaks. Does it, Tandris?� The witch suddenly struck the grating under her feet with her swords, sending up sparks. �Answer! Yes or no, will you die for Selesnya?�

Emmara had no weapons, no spell at the ready. She only had the need to get through that gate. She wondered whether she would die for that guild that had abandoned her, that had left her to run this race alone. �If I must.�

�No!� said Exava, her eyes and her smile opening too wide. �You will die for nothing.�

Exava did not charge with her swords. Instead she sauntered backward, and all around the chamber, horrors erupted. These were not the usual Rakdos cultists, who were just people wearing grotesque masks and blood-streaked armor. These were demon- spawn, hideous creatures of sinew and fangs and stretched-skin wings, clawing their way out of columns of dark flame that rose from the braziers.

Emmara waved a spell to life, encircling herself with floating rings of thorny bramble. As the demonic creatures lunged and clawed at her, the thorn shield took the brunt of the blows, and the thorns tore at their flesh. Still, it wasn�t enough. The demons� unearthly strength buffeted her back and forth, and in no time her thorn shield was beginning to buckle. One claw raked open a wound from her shoulder blade to her lower back, and a demon�s bite crushed the bones in her elbow.

�Leave no scraps of her!� she heard Exava shouting over the roars of the demons. �Devour her! Let her feel the gift of agony that we shall bring to all the guilds! For you, Lord Rakdos!�

Smoke poured from the dark place beyond the Rakdos gate, and a series of echoing booms grew louder, closer.

Emmara ached to take a moment to heal herself. But the demons� onslaught was constant. As her orbiting rings splintered, she cast a related spell, focusing on the individual thorns that had become lodged in the demons� claws, arms, and gums. Each of the thorns became a seed for a burst of new growth. Bright green sprouts lanced out of the demons� flesh, sending runners and roots wrapping around their limbs. The demons screeched, writhing and scraping away the insistent growths, trying to claw the magical growth out of them before it burst them apart.

It gave Emmara the time she needed. She took a deep breath, and wove a chord of healing magic to soothe and bind her wounds. She glanced up at the blood-witch. She stood in front of the gate, smoke billowing around her. �You�re a resourceful one,� said Exava with a frown of approval. �But you should have let the underspawn destroy you, my dear. Because now you face my master instead.�

�Oh, no,� she said involuntarily. Emmara had the instinct to reach out with her mind to Jace, but she retracted her thoughts again. No, she couldn�t trust him. She could never trust him again.

The demon lord Rakdos emerged from the guildgate, and Emmara stumbled back, overwhelmed by the enormity of the ancient guildmaster. His four horns folded around his face like a twisted crown, framing his thousand-toothed grin. He spread his wings, filling the chamber. He spoke, and to Emmara it sounded like a wind of death, withering her heart.

�You have found me a delicious soul on which to feed, Exava,� said Rakdos.

Emmara�s mouth tried to form the word no but no sound escaped. The demon lord reached for her with a clawed hand as big as a throne, and Emmara felt his hot touch closing around her body. She yelled out, and there was a crash.

�Jace?� she thought in spite of herself.

She imagined that the crash was the sound of her body breaking under Rakdos�s grip, or perhaps her soul tearing to pieces. But a shaft of blinding light had broken through the ceiling, crumbling the stone. Through the gaping hole thrust a huge fist, lancing down like the light.

More chunks of the ceiling fell, widening the breach, and more light poured in. A huge entity dropped down out of the light and landed with a boom. It was a nature elemental, like the ones Emmara had been able to call. It crouched below the rent in the ceiling, its lush vines coiling around a solid skeleton of marble.

�No!� roared Rakdos, his voice hoarse with hatred.

Emmara was released. Rakdos retracted his grasp and turned to face the elemental. The other demon creatures retreated slightly from the light, shielding their eyes, and the seedlings that Emmara had planted in their bodies accelerated their growth.

Exava only sneered and spat on the floor.

From behind the elemental poured a cavalcade of Selesnya troops. Guildmages, woodshapers, wolf-riders, and centaurs in gleaming armor leaped down onto the elemental and rushed down its back into the chamber of Rix Maadi. There were so many of them, flowing out of the light like a stampede, swords drawn and spells ready. Finally, another great elemental made its way down from the breach, and on its back it carried the three dryads of Trostani.

�My guildmaster,� Emmara said. �Thank you.�

�Go, Emmara,� said Trostani. �Your Conclave shall protect you.�

�You came back for me,� Emmara said.

�You showed the path for us all. Now go.�

The battle rung out in the chamber. Spell-weavers and priests hurled binding spells at the demonic guildmaster as he backhanded the onrushing wolf-riders. The demon spawn slashed at armored soldiers as enchanted steel sizzled against their flesh. The great nature elementals brawled with the demon lord, their mighty limbs swinging in time to Trostani�s commands.

Emmara scrambled for the gate, dodging through the battle to get a clear run. Exava saw her, and moved to block her way, a smile spreading on her face.

Emmara did not slow down. She charged straight at the blood-witch, imagining her as just another obstacle to getting what she wanted, just another lie to smash her way through. She would knock the woman down bodily if she had to.

Exava grinned at her, poised and waiting for the right moment. When Emmara bounded up the stairs, the blood-witch swung her sword, and it was timed perfectly to cleave into Emmara�s neck.

Emmara had nothing to deflect the blow but her own arm. The sword sank through the skin and into bone as she collided with the blood-witch. The two of them rolled to the ground, and Emmara ended up on top, kneeling astride Exava�s hips and pinning her down.

The sword was lodged in Emmara�s arm, almost clear through it. She took hold of the sword�s hilt. She gritted her teeth, a savage yell rumbling in her chest. Exava looked up at her, horrified fascination gleaming in her eyes.

Emmara ripped the sword free and groaned, and warm blood sprayed. She held the arm above her, sword in the other hand, and screamed through her teeth as the bone and muscle and sinew knitted itself whole again, thread by excruciating thread, sealing and merging with the near-severed limb. Her vision swam, and the sounds of the battle faded into the louder and louder pumping of blood in her ears, but she fought to stay conscious.

Emmara�s spell held, but there was still a storm of pain as she flexed the fingers at the end of the injured arm. She looked down at the blood-witch, who was speechless with sadistic enjoyment.

That gave Emmara the chance to jam the blood-witch�s sword into her shoulder. As Exava screeched and writhed in pain, Emmara stood, heaved a few breaths, then took hold of the blood-witch�s free arm. She hauled the woman up onto her shoulder, and as the battle raged behind her, she carried her enemy through the Rakdos gate.

Jace thrust forth with his mind, taking hold of the minds of all ten runners. He saw the impact Lazav had had on their minds. But even without the Dimir�s influence, each mind was a tangle of rage, blame, and frustration, each one shaped by its own set of experiences, informed by its own unique perspective on the world.

That was their strength and their weakness. Each of them viewed the world through their own lens, their own skewed perspective. He had to make them see each other. He had to make them see each other as he saw them�from the inside of their minds.

Jace used his own mind as a conduit, connecting all ten minds to each other. He used himself as a bridge just as he had with the family on Zendikar, demolishing the barriers between them, letting them see directly into one another�s souls. Varolz could sense the hotheaded frustration of Exava, who could directly perceive the militant zeal of Tajic, who could share the belligerent rebellion of Ruric Thar, who could see the passion for order and law in the heart of Lavinia. Each guild champion was flooded with the simultaneous thoughts and emotions of every other. They formed a ring of minds, a ring of hopes and beliefs and ways of life, a ring of lives.

The pain rose in Jace�s skull. Jace cried out, and the scream spiraled in on itself, shattering into a thousand pieces and crushing him from every direction. He had merged their minds, let them peer directly into each other, but it was unraveling his own mind in the process. He couldn�t perceive boundaries anymore, as he had broken them all. He had broken himself. He had fused all into one, but the cost was his own identity.

He heard an echoing voice, the voice of someone he knew, as if from a distance of years and a period of miles. The voice was saying a word, over and over again, a word that had meaning to him, but one he couldn�t remember.

It was the voice of the bailiff. The word he was saying was his name.

Jace opened his eyes. It was dark, except that the bailiff was looking down on him, his runes aglow.

Light erupted from the bailiff, and Jace�s body was scoured. He felt the light as a physical force pressing against him, pushing into him like a gale of wind�and then it pierced into him, penetrating his skin, ricocheting inside the boundaries of his body, tracing a skein of light inside him. It filled him, and consumed his vision, and the forum and the maze-runners faded away as the world flooded with light. The opaque whiteness was not blinding but soft, like diffused sunlight shining through a bank of fog. A low, composite roar suffused the air around him, like the sounds of thousands of overlapping conversations that were muffled almost to inaudibility. Jace floated, his skin tingling like the feeling just before his hair stood on end. He felt one with the distance, as though he could see as far as infinity, and reach out and touch the horizon with his finger.

Jace felt a presence at his side, and without turning he knew it was the shimmering form of the bailiff.

�Bailiff,� said Jace. Jace�s voice sounded strange, coming to his ears after a tiny delay, as if he were hearing his voice only in echo and not inside his own head. �I feel different.�

�You are different,� said the bailiff, as he rose.

�What has happened? Didn�t you deliver the verdict?�

�The verdict will not be necessary now.� The bailiff stood next to Jace, facing into the luminous fog, as if measuring the breadth of infinity. �The Guildpact has taken form.�

�It has? The Guildpact is in effect again?�

�The Guildpact has been realized.�

�Something�s different. It�s not the same this time.�

�The Guildpact of old was a spell, a spell designed to govern the interactions of the ten guilds. It was a powerful and far-reaching spell, but Azor speculated that it might one day fail. He created the Assessment to determine whether the Guildpact could take a new form. And it has.�

�The Guildpact has taken form�what does that mean?�

�It means you.�

Jace�s hair follicles contracted all over his body. He blinked several times. He took a long time to muster enough breath to form his next word.

�What?�

�You, Jace Beleren, are the living manifestation of the pact between the guilds. You are the Guildpact.�

�What does that mean?�

�You are the one who has proven himself the mediator, the one who can understand the perspectives of the ten guilds. So, like before, when the guilds clash, a code of law will arbitrate between them. The difference is that now, you are that law.�

�I can�t be.�

�Nevertheless, you are.�

�But I am not���I am not from this world.�

�Neither, as it happens, was Azor. But that criterion was not important to his Assessment.�

�It�s important to me! How can I leave again? How can I uphold�how can I be the Guildpact, here on Ravnica?�

�You have proven that you are the one capable of embodying the Guildpact. Your methods are up to you.�

Jace thought of all the maze-runners around him, back at the Forum of Azor, wherever that was from here. Of Emmara. �What happens if I die?�

�Then the Guildpact will be broken once again.�

�But if the Guildpact is a person, then it will be more fragile than before. All ten guilds will curry that person�s favor�my favor�or worse, they�ll try to kill me. They�ll send the plane back into brinksmanship and chaos.�

�Azor furnished me with a recommendation for the one who became the Living Guildpact.�

�What�s that?�

�The ability that earned you this prize is the one you must employ to maintain it.�

With that, the bailiff faded away into the diffuse light. Jace felt his presence fade.

And before he had time to take a deep, revelation-assessing breath, the light, too, began to fade, and the forum appeared around him once again. Jace lay on the central dais, physically unchanged but bestowed with a new status.

He was staring up into the eyes of a dragon.

Jace scrambled to his feet. Niv-Mizzet was perched just outside the forum, his enormous bulk settled on a nearby building. The maze-runners all looked up to see the encounter between Jace and the dragon. Lazav was nowhere to be seen.

The dragon craned his neck and angled his head to aim a squinting, uncertain eye directly at Jace, its vertical pupil taking in his every movement. A moist, transparent membrane closed over the eye and retracted again. �The Guildpact has been���restored,� said the dragon, slowly.

�Yes,� said Jace.

Niv-Mizzet breathed a trail of smoke out of his sinuses. He angled his head a fractional angle to the side. �The Izzet wish to declare war on the Selesnya,� he said, his great yellow eye twitching.

The dragon was gauging Jace�s reaction. �You may not,� said Jace quietly.

The spines on the dragon�s cheeks flexed slightly. He leaned in with his great neck, bringing his monstrous head right down by Jace�s face, dwarfing his entire body. Niv-Mizzet blew twin nostrilfuls of hot smoke at Jace, looking him up and down through the smoke. The smoke dissipated, and Jace resisted the urge to cough. The dragon then parted his lips, revealing great ivory teeth. �Very well,� said the dragon.

Niv-Mizzet backed away, straightened up, and spread his wings wide, roofing the entire forum. With one powerful beat of his wings, he lifted off the ground, blasting the area with wind. As Jace and the maze-runners watched, Niv-Mizzet climbed into the air. The dragon kept his head turned back, eyes fixed on Jace, until the moment that he pivoted and flew away over the Ravnican skyline.

�What just happened?� asked Ral Zarek.

Emmara was looking at Jace. �It�s as the dragon said. The Guildpact has been restored.�

Ral Zarek snorted. �What does he know about the Guildpact?�

�He is the Guildpact,� whispered Lavinia, her eyes wide.

Jace stood in the building�s new skeleton, among the bare joists and timber rafters, looking out at the Tenth District. The traffic patterns in this formerly sleepy neighborhood would have to be redrawn, the streets widened. The unfinished embassy stood like the beginnings of a grand sculpture, not yet shaped into its final form but showing its majesty already. In order to build its foundation, the crews had had to clear out mountains of ash and charred wood. The sign outside read in official-looking, newly-painted letters: EMBASSY OF THE GUILDPACT.

Someone was climbing the makeshift stairs from below. Officer Lavinia made her way up to the floor where Jace stood.

Jace tipped his head to her. �Now�s your chance to arrest me, Officer.�

�You�re safe from me for now, Living Guildpact,� said Lavinia. She took in the panorama of the city around them. �Quite a view you have from up here, the site of your old sanctum.�

Jace shrugged. �They asked me where I wanted this place to be. Seemed fitting.�

�Makes sense. I suppose you�ll be making a lot of decisions now.�

�I intend to have a lot of help. That�s why I asked you here.� Lavinia inspected him. �To make a show of sharing the power?�

�No. Because I actually need your help. I�m not an emperor. I don�t lead the guilds. I just have the privilege of trying to keep them from devouring each other. Besides, I won�t be able to adjudicate all the time. I�ll need advice.�

�An advisory council.�

�Yes.�

�You thought of who�ll be on it?�

�Yes. Representatives from all the guilds, of course. People I can trust.�

�Sounds wise. So what do you need from me?�

Jace couldn�t tell if she was being coy, or if she really didn�t know what he was offering. �I think you actually want me to ask.�

Lavinia paced around the unfinished floor, not facing him, but Jace could see she wore a slim smile. She looked through the rafters, through the half-completed roof, to the sky, sheltering her eyes with her hand. �Looks like it will be a fitting edifice. So this will be the official embassy? The headquarters?�

�Well, this is where people will see the sign. This is where we�ll conduct official meetings that we want the public to know about.�

�This is the place that�ll go on maps.�

�Exactly.�

�Who gets to know where the real one is located?�

�Let me put it this way,� said Jace. �You�re not one of them. Not yet.�

Another set of footsteps came up the makeshift stairs. Emmara appeared without a word. Her gown indicated some new important station within the Selesnya Conclave.

�Can I talk to you later, Councilor?� Jace asked Lavinia.

Lavinia nodded, and smirked at the mention of the title. She tilted her head at Emmara, and made her way down the stairs.

Jace didn�t look at Emmara for a long time. He leaned his hands against one open windowsill, looking out onto Ravnica. He let her explore the nascent building, and gave her time to come up with the words she wanted to say. It was her place to speak, he knew.

�Have you heard any cases yet?� Emmara asked finally. Her tone was light, casual. That was good.

�A few,� Jace said. �A dispute over recruiting rights. A destruction of property claim. Nothing world-shattering.�

�And you�re able to mediate between the guilds? They abide by your judgment?�

�It seems they have to.�

Emmara wore a small smile, which brought rose to her cheeks. �You did it. You brought them together.�

Jace didn�t know where to look, so he inspected his palms. �We�ll see. There�s a lot to do yet, and you know I have to take care of some things���elsewhere.�

He saw Emmara�s smile falter, and he thought he saw her eyes unfocus for a moment. The talk of other worlds, of his planeswalker nature, had stripped away the lies between them. He didn�t know how she was taking it, but he had wanted to include her, to reveal the walls he put up around his life and let her inside. He wanted his secret to bind them together, as he had bound together the minds of the maze-runners.

�And then there�s you,� he went on. �I don�t know that I can ever express to you how sorry I am for the various ways I�ve hurt you. I think I have a list written down somewhere.�

Emmara fell against him abruptly, and her mouth found his, and she pressed against his lips like making an impression in clay. His eyes fell closed and his body froze, as if to contain the feeling of her skin this close to his, and to hold it inside him for as long as he could. But when she broke the connection and pulled away, and she smiled with her lips together like a courteous houseguest, he knew. He knew that it had been a gesture of gratitude, a one-way gift to show her appreciation, hardly more than a missive from her guild. He opened his eyes and composed himself, pulling his cloak around him. Her smile grew into her cheeks as she looked at him, but he saw a coiled-up pain in her eyes as they retreated from him and she looked anywhere else but his face. A politeness had frosted over them.

�Jace��� she began.

�Well, thanks for coming to see the place,� Jace said. His voice sounded too loud, too pedestrian. �I hope that we see each other again.� That was the wrong thing to say, too, as if he expected them to become total strangers. But he couldn�t unsay it, and it hung there in the air.

�We will,� she said, mending the awkwardness with two words. She was a healer in all ways. �But Jace, before I go, I need something from you.�

�Name it.�

Her lip trembled slightly. �In order for me to do my duty to my guild, I need to be able to share everything with them. I need to be able to commune with Trostani, with the woodshapers and guildmages, with every soul in the Conclave. That is my charge and my guild oath. Do you see?�

Jace�s heart thumped. �You want to tell them what I�ve told you. About my travel beyond Ravnica, about the other worlds. But you can�t tell them that�it�s not something they�d be able to understand. They can�t know.�

�That is not what I�m asking,� she said, pressing her hands together. �You are correct that I can�t tell them that, Jace. They can never know. It would kill them to know. Just as it�s been killing me.�

Jace flinched and glanced away. The meaning of what she said took its time working its way through the walls of his mind. She had kept his secret close, but it was causing her pain. Of course it was. She was not meant to brood on secrets and conceal them with lies. His revelation dug into her like a splinter, and he was the one who had imposed it on her. His attempt to bare himself to her had only been another cruelty.

�I�m so sorry,� he said.

�That�s why you have to help me,� she said.

When she said no more, he glanced back at her. Her face pleaded.

He realized what she wanted. �Absolutely not,� he said.

�You have to erase it from me, Jace. You don�t know what it�s like, keeping this from them. I can�t let them know it, and I don�t want to know it.�

�I�m not touching your memories.�

�You must. I can�t live this way. It�s too big to do nothing about. But I can�t do anything about it. It�s just there, in my mind.�

�But it�s the truth,� he said, the pleading tone creeping into his own voice. It was the truth, but it was more than that. It was his attempt to reach out to her. It was his gift to her that she had come to return, and in doing so she was showing him how unwelcome a gesture it had been.

�You have to put me back,� she said. �Back to where I didn�t know. As long as I know, I�ll never be able to be open with them. I�ll never be able to be Selesnya.�

Jace grabbed the hair on the back of his head, shielding his face with his elbows. He took a series of deliberate breaths, clenching his teeth against the urge to shout. He saw why she wanted this. He saw the good sense of preventing the spread of Multiverse knowledge among the planebound denizens of Ravnica, and he saw how the knowledge would eat away at her connection to her guild. But the thought of tearing into Emmara�s mind, excising the words he had told her�even if he only took a few minutes away from her, it would be a kind of goodbye. It would kill something that, right now, was a little bit alive.

�Please, Jace,� she said.

He nodded heavily. The spell wasn�t even that difficult to muster. He had such proficiency with it, like a rehearsed piece of music. He was present in her mind in the span of a few breaths, searching through flickering memories of Trostani and Exava and Calomir, brushing through her thoughts of him in his patterned blue cloak. Finally he narrowed the spell to focus on a moment in a storm when he showed her the truth of the man he really was.

He hovered there, with that memory cradled in his consciousness like a sip of water cupped in his hands.

She looked at him as he held the mind magic there, and her face was serene. �This is in case you need me,� she said, and she pressed a small wooden artifact into his hand. It was an intricate woodcarving in the shape of a leaf.

�Thank you,� he said.

�You�re welcome,� she said. �You�re welcome here.�

He tightened his grasp, and the memory disintegrated. She embraced him as the spell ended, the polite end of a visit. She walked to the top of the stairs. He watched her descend out of sight, and then he turned to the window and looked out at the towers of Ravnica.