“Then all the more reason you should be chosen as the maze-runner, Lavinia,” said Kavin. “You’ve been this district’s most valiant protector for most of your career. You can keep us safe from the verdict. That’s why your choice was true, Your Honor.”
That wasn’t the reason, thought Jace. Lazav wanted Lavinia chosen because he thought he could manipulate her into triggering it, releasing a wave of ruin across the district, killing the thousands of people within it.
THE STARTING LINE
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.