Part 3 (2/2)
Jace sent his senses up to that window, feeling out the shapes of the minds inside the building. Details flooded into his mind. He sensed two people, unguilded humans. They were a couple who owned a nearby bakery. The two of them worked different s.h.i.+fts. Jace couldn't hear their voices with his ears, but he could read their words in his mind as they spoke them.
”You haven't even said how it was,” one was saying.
”I don't know,” said the other. ”Long and dull, just like any other day. Business is better now that the guilds are back. But still not as many customers as I'd like if we're going to pay off the new oven.”
”I meant the stew. You said nothing about it.”
Jace clung to their words, balancing the two minds in his consciousness, huddling around the warmth of their conversation.
”Well, it was cold. And the beef was stringy.”
”You were home late.”
”The streets were crazy. The guilds were out in force again tonight. Boros enforcers, Rakdos rioters ... I could barely get home.”
Jace snapped his consciousness back to his own mind. He pitied this couple, two of the countless innocents whose lives were impacted every day by the activities of Ravnica's guilds. His mind flashed with imagery of Rakdos freaks bursting into his room at the inn, with Emmara standing defiant before them. Were these actual memories or fabrications-his imaginings of an event for which he had only seen the aftermath? Jace put his fingertips to his temples and pressed, as if he could wring the thoughts out of his head, or as if he could plug the gaping holes in his memory. He stared forward at nothing, trying to ignore that the edge of his cloak was lying in an unidentifiable puddle.
He shoved his hands in his cloak, and felt something in his pocket. He took out the finely crafted wooden leaf that Emmara had given him. It had the faintest fragrance of Emmara's skin. She had told him it was a way to contact her, but he didn't know if she would be able to respond. He didn't even know if it would tell him if his message had reached its target-whether Emmara was alive or dead.
He let the artifact balance on his palm. It was so delicate that it moved slightly with his pulse.
”I need you,” he whispered.
The artifact blazed with white light for a moment, the intricately carved veins s.h.i.+ning like white-hot wires, and Jace felt a tingling on his skin. Then the artifact faded, the veins attenuating to threads as fragile as ash, and it crumbled in his hand.
He hoped she could hear it, wherever she was. He hoped that if she had heard it, she knew that it meant he would find her. At least if she heard it, he thought, it meant that he had said the words.
Then he reached into his other pocket for the novelty coin he had found in his ruined room at the inn. It might have been dropped by the attackers. He examined the smirking demon's face on the token-probably a sign of the Rakdos, considering their a.s.sociation with demonic forces. He read the other side: RUN WITH THE ROUGH CROWD. Maybe it was a kind of rallying cry for the Cult of Rakdos, he thought, or a recruitment slogan. Or something else.
He stood abruptly. Suddenly, he knew where to look.
Officer Lavinia stood before the enormous double doors that led into the highest spire of New Prahv, the lair of the guildmaster. To look at her, nothing would seem out of place: her cape spilled elegantly from her officer's armor, her sword shone like a decorative piece one would hang above a mantel, and her three-sided medals displayed her district-spanning rank. But her brow trembled, more with frustration than with fear. And she clutched at a folded note in her hand, worrying it with her fingers. It read ”Her Honor the Supreme Judge would have words with you.”
When the hussars opened the doors for her, she stepped up onto the azure-carpeted dais and gave the traditional nod of respect. Under the enormous Azorius signet, with its mazelike runes bounded within a perfect triangle, was her guildmaster, the Supreme Judge herself: the sphinx Isperia. A robed scribe who had almost more gray eyebrows than face stood nearby, holding a quill ready over a long roll of paper.
”Your Honor,” said Lavinia.
The scribe wrote on his paper, making a sharp scratching sound, and stopped again.
Isperia's huge feathered wings were folded against her lionlike flanks, and she sat with her back arched n.o.bly. Her paws flexed, p.r.i.c.king bits of the carpet with her claws.
The sphinx's eyes focused directly on Lavinia. Some said the guildmaster never blinked, and Lavinia found no evidence to the contrary.
”You have returned from investigating the suspect,” said Isperia.
”Yes, Your Honor,” said Lavinia. ”And yet Jace Beleren is not here before me now. Why is this?”
The scribe continued scratching. Lavinia couldn't help flicking her eyes to him in annoyance.
”He has eluded our patrols. We need more hussars, more lawmages.”
The sphinx ruffled her great wings. ”I do not foresee you succeeding with more resources.”
Lavinia's teeth clenched. It did not do to contradict a sphinx, let alone her guildmaster.
”You've learned what you can from the scene?”
”The evidence appears clear, Your Honor. We have witnesses who'll testify that the suspect fled the scene after attempting to use magic on our officers.”
”This man sounds dangerous, Officer Lavinia. How did you pursue?”
”Our pursuit was delayed by an altercation with an unrelated party. By the time we were extricated from that situation, the suspect had escaped. But we will find him.”
”One person delayed your entire investigation?”
”It was an ogre, Your Honor. One of the Gruul. A fearsome warrior.”
”And he, of course, was apprehended in accordance with protocols?”
”Yes, Your Honor. We confined him temporarily.”
”Temporarily?”
”He broke the detention spells.”
”By unweaving your law-runes?”
”By ... punching them, Your Honor. He, too, remains at large.”
Isperia glowered. ”Officer Lavinia,” she snapped, ”when I ask you a question, you will volunteer nothing less than the perfect, most transparent truth. Do you understand?”
It took all of Lavinia's will not to take a half-step backward. The scribe wrote, his quill wiggling back and forth, and he murmured softly to himself.
Lavinia kept her shoulders straight. ”Yes, Your Honor.”
”What information led you to this building?”
”We received a tip from a courier. The message was sent anonymously. No investigation has yet been performed of the origin of the tip, but I will see to that next.”
”Officer Lavinia, are you aware that Beleren's acquaintance, Emmara Tandris, was reported kidnapped that same night?”
”I am.”
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