Return to Ravnica

INSIDE THE FIREMIND

Jace gathered his mana and fired his mind magic like an arrow. The spell sailed invisibly through the air to Niv-Mizzet and punched into the dragon’s mind. Jace knew he wouldn’t have time to root around through the lore that undoubtedly filled the ancient dragon’s memories, so he focused on one task: finding what Niv-Mizzet knew about the maze.

It was like falling into an inferno. Incomprehensible thoughts blazed past him. Wild theories, impossible experiments, and mad diatribes roiled like a storm around him, all set against the backdrop of thousands of years’ worth of memories. Niv-Mizzet had no surface thoughts. It was as if he had whirlwinds of competing ideas at all times, storm fronts of the mind crashing into each other, yet somehow all converging into coherent thoughts.

But as Jace’s spell took him through the dragon’s mind, he was able to recognize a pattern, like a single crackle of lightning that branched throughout the chaos. It was the dragon’s obsession with his project. In his mind, he called it the Implicit Maze, a puzzle carved into the face of Ravnica itself, a mystery he believed led to untold power.

Jace was consumed with the dragon’s fervor for the Implicit Maze. A thousand possible solutions churned through Niv-Mizzet’s mind. Endless routes sizzled and broke apart across his mental landscape. But Jace knew, as the dragon knew, that none of them were quite right.

And then Jace saw what he what he hoped to see. The dragon knew the prize behind the Implicit Maze. Jace saw it too, and realized the power of it. And then he understood why Niv-Mizzet had set his entire guild to the cause of solving it.

As the Izzet gate closed and Jace’s contact with the dragon dissipated, Jace sensed that his intrusion had been noticed. The attention of the dragon surrounded him for that moment, like a predator’s gaze latching onto its prey, curious and unsettlingly patient.

“Jace, it’s good that you’re back,” said Kavin.

Jace had returned to his sanctum and slammed the door behind him. He huffed inadequate breaths and tried to calm himself. His vedalken compatriot Kavin was there, presumably still working on the fragments of the code they had found, still agonizingly piecing together what Jace had learned all in one blazing moment.

“Kavin, we have to talk.”

Kavin waved a sheaf of papers, covered in his neat hand in fresh ink. “Yes, you’re correct. Because you’ll want to hear this. I have discovered something.”

“So have I.”

“Excellent. Now, then. I’ve been researching all the samples we’ve collected. The stonework, the rubbings, the artifacts. And I’ve found a pattern.”

“Kavin.”

“The code. It’s a version of an antiquated Azorius legal script, dating back hundreds, maybe thousands of years. We’ll have to find someone who can decipher it, naturally. But in fact, I happen to have some facility with Azorius runes. Call it an old hobby—”

“Kavin, listen.”

“I wasn’t seeing it before, because we weren’t arranging them right, and our samples are incomplete and worn by time. But I’ve been able to surmise some of the terms and concepts to which it refers.”

“Kavin, I know what the code means.”

Kavin blinked. “You do?”

“I’ve done some … surveillance. The Izzet are investigating the same mystery that we are.”

Kavin cocked his head an inch. “You were following Izzet guild members?”

“They’ve unlocked something related to the code.”

“Wait. You used magic to invade their minds?”

“I gained some of their knowledge, yes.”

“Jace, interfering in guild business can be very dangerous.”

“A path. They have begun to piece together a particular path.”

Kavin held up his notes. “That’s what I’ve learned, as well. There are repeated mentions in the stonework about a ‘path that winds through civilization,’ a ‘path leading to great promise.’ ”

Jace nodded. “The Izzet think of it as a maze.”

“A maze, yes, that’s a better translation. So, you’ve learned where this maze is?”

“It doesn’t seem to be a maze in the traditional sense. The maze seems to lead from landmark to landmark—it’s built into the very structure of the existing districts. An implicit maze. That’s why we’ve seen the Izzet showing up repeatedly, doing experiments around the Tenth—they’re uncovering the route through this maze. All this time you and I have been finding the breadcrumbs of the same trail they’ve been following.”

Jace watched Kavin absorb these revelations. The vedalken’s face rarely showed emotion the way humans did, but Jace could tell that he was struggling. This mystery was a thrill to his own curious mind, but Jace could tell that his compatriot had grave doubts about whether to pursue it.

“Jace, the Izzet are not just scholarly rivals. Their guildmaster does not take kindly to competition.”

“I know. But it’s not the competition that concerns me. It’s what lies at the end of the maze. I think it’s something that could prove very, very dangerous. It’s something that could alter the balance of the guilds. Something that could impact our entire world.”

“What is it?”

Jace wondered whether even to tell Kavin what he had grasped from Niv-Mizzet’s mind. But this was the end of their research. This was the answer they had sought. “Power. The Izzet believe this maze leads to some form of great power. Perhaps even a weapon. I don’t know exactly what it is yet, and I don’t think Niv-Mizzet does, either.”

Kavin’s eyes widened at the mention of the dragon’s name, but Jace went on.

“But this maze, this code, all of this—it’s old. It’s something that was built into the districts long, long ago. If it’s something that inspires such obsession in a dragon, if it’s something he thinks is worthy of his time, then it’s probably something that shouldn’t fall into his hands. We have to chase this, Kavin. We need to learn what’s at the end of this maze before the dragon does. But there’s an even more pressing problem.”

“Jace, who exactly provided you with this information?”

Jace picked at the seam of his cloak. “That’s the problem.”

“Who was it?”

“The dragon, Niv-Mizzet himself. I saw it, all of this, in his mind. And he may have seen me, too.”

“Jace …” Kavin squeezed his eyes shut. He pressed his fingers to his blue-skinned forehead until purplish blotches formed around his fingertips, and drew several deep breaths. When he opened his eyes again, his words came slow with forced patience. “The answer is no.”

“I know there are risks. But maybe we can stay ahead of him. Maybe we can get to the bottom of this before they do.”

“You misunderstand. I’m not just refusing. I’m telling you no. You can’t proceed with this. Neither of us can. It’s suicide.”

Jace remembered the sensation of the dragon’s eyes, the dragon’s mind, turning toward him, just for that instant. It brought to mind a soul-chilling encounter with the dragon Nicol Bolas. His newfound knowledge about the Izzet’s discovery had come with a troubling cost—the possibility that yet another dragon knew his name.

“Jace, we’re done with this. Do I need to remind you what happens when the guilds want something? They ruin lives. They use people. We get involved, and we expose ourselves to the worst they’re capable of.”

“But doesn’t that mean we should get involved? Don’t you think this is important?”

“Of course it’s important. From what you’re saying, it’s gravely serious. Which is why we’re going to shut down this project, destroy all traces of our research, and leave this district.”

Jace wanted to contradict him. He wanted to rebel, to forge ahead without Kavin’s help. He knew investigating this maze would put him in danger, and had accepted that. But he thought of his time with the Infinite Consortium, and how he had learned that when he went up against powerful men, those he cared about were the ones who were hurt. He thought of his friend Kallist, who even Jace himself had manipulated in the end. He thought of Kavin—a talented man but no match for the ruthlessness of Ravnica’s guildmasters.

And he thought of Emmara, who had brought Jace back from the brink of death time and again, and who asked for nothing in return. She had been nothing but a friend to him, and he had brought nothing but harm to her. She had survived an assassination attempt brought on because of him. The more he chased his curiosity, the more she bore the consequences.

Perhaps all this was nothing. Perhaps this was simply the wild fancy of a capricious dragon—Jace had found nothing in his research to suggest that the maze led to a weapon or something else that would endanger Ravnica.. Perhaps Jace was needlessly endangering himself and his allies by yet again sticking his nose where it didn’t belong. He wished he could immerse himself in the layers of secrets, but he couldn’t see any way around the grave risks.

“So?” Kavin asked.

Mirko Vosk walked briskly, scanning the night for witnesses. When he arrived at the chosen intersection, the streets were abandoned. So he approached a brick wall and walked straight through it.

The wall softened into mist for a moment, allowing his passage, and reverted to solid brick after he was through. The abandoned corridors of the undercity branched out before him. He descended a half-ruined staircase, passed under a series of archways, and wove his way through unmarked side passages. Even in the gloom, his eyes reflected like mirrors.

The corridor widened into a haphazard catacomb. Vosk was surrounded by a ring of crude stone shelves where the skeletal remains of forgotten Ravnicans were interred. He knew he had reached the right meeting place because his fangs descended involuntarily. He could feel his master’s presence like a breath on his neck.

Vosk turned in a slow circle, addressing the air around him. “I have news, Master.”

“Of Beleren … Yes, I see,” came the voice—an omni-directional, croaking rasp that echoed throughout the passages.

“He knows something—something that may be of value to the guild.”

“Yes,” said the voice. “He may prove to be the instrument we require.”

Vosk turned, speaking to the walls all around him. “Shall I drain him for you, Master?”

“Enlighten me on the other one, Vosk. What do your senses tell you about the Selesnya girl?”

“Trostani favors her, as you foresaw, Master. Her import grows. I can smell it on her.”

“And what does one call two paths that cross and become one?”

“Synchronicity?”

“Opportunity,” rasped the voice. “By applying pressure in one place, we divert attention away from another, do we not?”

“Yes, Master.”

“And so we may achieve the elf by means of the Cult, and Beleren by means of the elf.”

“As you wish.”

“You are my most promising agent, Vosk.”

Vosk nodded solemnly. “Thank you, Master.”

“But if you fail me,” said the voice, “I shall have your ribs replaced with shards of wood, so that every breath you take threatens to pierce your heart.”

“I understand,” said Vosk.

There was no further response.

In a sacred grove in the Tenth District, Emmara bowed before Trostani, a being composed of three dryads merged into one. Each of Trostani’s three upper bodies moved and spoke independently, each one a beautiful, foliage-haired woman, each one a powerful voice of the Selesnya Conclave. But their lower bodies converged into a single sinuous trunk, like a mighty tree. Trostani was the leader of the Selesnya, but Emmara knew she was more than that. Trostani was a living symbol of her guild’s belief in unity, the embodiment of the power of the masses bound into one.

“The wild beings of the world are open to you, Emmara Tandris,” said Trostani. As the guildmaster spoke, the three different dryads wove their speech together, not actually speaking in unison, but blending their words into a single voice. “Your talents as a healer are great, but we desire to see you weave greater magic still. Call on the mighty elementals of nature. They still answer when we summon them, so long as we continue to believe in the world as a single entity, as they do. You are their ambassador now, and they are your guide.”

Emmara bowed again. “My deepest thanks, Guildmaster.”

“Your gratitude is well-meaning, but premature. The time of peril approaches. Gather together all that you hold dear, for the day nears that our unity shall be tested.”

Emmara thought of the Izzet’s secretive project, and of the paranoia among the other guilds. “Guildmaster, is there a way to preserve the guilds without the Guildpact?”

“Only if we become one,” said Trostani, the words flowing gracefully from the three dryads. “The guilds are an expression of the beliefs of this world, and we cannot survive without them any more than we can survive without belief. But remember, the individual means nothing. Boundaries are an illusion. If you are to mend us, healer, you must dispel barriers. You must not allow the ten to splinter, or we shall all come to ruin.”

Emmara felt unworthy of this charge. She bowed to Trostani, and the three dryads bowed to her in turn, their trunk-body bending like a graceful willow. Emmara turned to leave the grove, and she knew who she had to convince to help her, whether he was willing to join her guild or not.

Before she had even left the Selesnya grove a courier ran up to her, clearly seeking her out. “Emmara Tandris?” he asked. When she affirmed, he handed her a rolled-up letter. “I’m told the sender was someone named Berrim.”

“Thank you.”

Berrim was the alias Jace had used when he and Emmara first met. She unfurled the letter and read it.

Emmara,

I apologize. I understand now why you tried to convince me to join you in reaching out to the guilds. I understand now why the guilds feel afraid and hostile toward the Izzet, and why you and your guild are seeking all the help you can find for the times ahead. But I am afraid I cannot be the one to aid you.

My compatriot Kavin and I have discovered clues that led us to the source of the Izzet’s plans. But unfortunately this must be the end of our investigation. I have brought grave danger upon us, and Kavin has convinced me that the best route for us is to abandon our research completely. In fact, I intend to go one step further: I will soon destroy our memories of ever having learned of these matters. If you ask me about any of this at any future meeting, I will not recall these events, including this letter, and I will not understand what you ask. This letter is to inform you of the reason for my future behavior, and to seek your pardon for my reluctance.

I am sorry. I know this will come as a disappointment to you. I hope in time you will understand my reasons. In the meantime, my friend, I hope you will consider your own safety, and consider abandoning your concerns with the actions of the Izzet.

Yours,

Jace

She crumpled the letter in her fist and whirled on the courier. “When was this sent?”

“This morning, madam.”

“Can you call for transportation? I need the fastest thing you can find me.”