Still, one of the Selesnya elders, a wizened woman in a white robe inset with wooden elements, put a small gift into Jace’s hand. It was a carved wooden leaf, like the one Emmara had given him before. This one was different in shape, long and tapered, with a slight twist in its edge, but equally delicate and masterfully made—a precious gift of welcoming. Jace bowed to the creator.
A tall elf man, geared in Selesnya soldier dress, stepped out from the ranks and strode toward him and Emmara. He smiled broadly at Emmara, and when she saw him, the two elves seemed to fall toward each other, their movements as symmetrical as partners in a dance. When they met, they took each other’s hands and locked eyes for a significant moment. Then, in a formal gesture but with great tenderness, they touched foreheads together, and it was more intimate than a kiss.
It struck Jace that Emmara had never looked happier. And he had never felt more naïve for thinking that she actually might have had feelings for him.
Of course she had never said anything that specified that her relationship with Jace was in any way romantic. She had come to him as a friend, looking for someone who could help her and her guild. And, as a matter of personal policy, he had never plumbed her mind beyond a wisp of a surface thought. He knew she had said she was not interested in humans. He knew they were only friends. He certainly didn’t know that Emmara was with someone, but that was certainly nothing she was required to volunteer.
Finally the elf man extended his hand. “Jace, is it?”
Jace shook it dazedly, then more firmly, trying to remember the etiquette of the situation. He swallowed his mortification like a stone.
Emmara saw his face. “Oh, I’m sorry,” she said sheepishly. “Captain Calomir, this is my friend Jace Beleren.” Her eyes were trying to apologize to him, but her cheeks were flush with joy. “We’ve been on a bit of an adventure together.”
Jace tried hard not to begin the process of finding flaw with the man. Involuntarily he imagined the man’s skin being cold, cold as a lizard’s scales, as cold as the vampire’s had been—but that was nonsense. Jace felt a dark twinge of intuition about Calomir, a morbid desire to find what lay behind this rival, but that was, after all, what jealousy felt like.
“I’m sorry, Calomir, she didn’t mention you,” he heard himself say. That was childish, he thought. But he took a momentary, mean pleasure in saying it.
Calomir didn’t bite. “Thank you for bringing her back to me,” he said. “But aren’t you the mind mage? Seems like something that’d be hard to miss for someone who can read minds.”
“My magic doesn’t work like that,” Jace mumbled. But that was probably how others thought of him: as an invader of minds, someone who probed into the secrets of everyone he met. It was a wonder Emmara even considered him a friend, if she believed that of him. She had wanted him to join the Selesnya guild—she likely saw him more as a weapon than a friend, a dangerous asset to secure within her own organization rather than letting it fall into the hands of the enemy.
Jace was trying not to descend into petulance, but he was failing, and he didn’t much care. He felt detached, as if he had unbuckled himself from this conversation and was now floating free.
“Are you hurt?” Calomir asked.
“I’m fine,” said Emmara brightly. “I wish everyone would stop asking me that.”
“The Rakdos didn’t count on her, did they, my friend?” Calomir elbowed Jace’s arm. The gesture felt unusually familiar for an elvish captain.
“It wasn’t the Rakdos,” Jace said. “They were set up by the Dimir. Isn’t that right, Emmara?”
Emmara nodded carefully. “We were intercepted by a Dimir agent. A vampire, sent to abduct us. He seemed particularly interested in Jace.”
“What possible value could he serve to the Dimir?” asked Calomir. “No offense meant, of course.”
“Jace was researching something of deep importance, something connected to the history of the guilds,” said Emmara.
“Oh? What is so important?”
“I don’t remember,” Jace said miserably.
Calomir didn’t even have the decency to laugh and get the humiliation over with.
“Jace has purged the research from his mind,” said Emmara.
“Ah, an empty vault,” Calomir said, and clucked with polite disappointment.
Jace felt another twinge of mistrust. He had heard “empty vault” somewhere before.
“A pity you don’t recall,” Calomir went on. “Is that common, for a mind mage to forget something so easily? No matter. In a world without a Guildpact, speculation is worth nothing. This is a time of war, and we must focus on defending ourselves from the other guilds.”
Emmara’s eyebrows rose. “It’s a time to prevent war. Our cause is to avert a guild conflict.”
“You underestimate the esteem this guild has for you, Emmara,” said Calomir. “Your abduction has been felt deeply in the Conclave. Many feel that this incident cannot go unpunished. And if the Dimir may be involved as well, on top of the actions of the Izzet, we would be fools not to be vigilant. But we can talk about that with Trostani. The guildmaster will be anxious to see you.”
The dryads of Trostani towered over Jace. They were unity incarnate, a being melded from three individuals. Their graceful woven shape reminded him of the delicate wooden leaf the Selesnya woman had given to him at the gates, organic patterns interlaced into a single whole. He wondered whether the woodshaping magic that had fashioned the leaf artifact was also responsible for Trostani’s composite form.
“Emmara,” said Trostani. “We are relieved you are safe.”
“Trostani,” said Emmara, “may I present Jace Beleren.”
Jace gave an awkward bow.
The three dryads smiled down at him. “We are glad you’ve delivered our friend Emmara back to us, Jace.” They alternated speaking one after another, rotating between them to complete their sentences. “We believe in the good of the whole over the needs of the individual—no single person is more special than any other. But as you know, Emmara is unique, and very important to us.”
“I do know that,” Jace said.
“Thank you, Trostani,” said Emmara.
“Which is why we trusted her unreservedly when she left on her mission to seek you out,” said Trostani. “I trust endangering her was ultimately worth it?”
“He’d tell you all about it, but he forgot it all,” chuckled Calomir.
“Jace has lost some memories that might have been useful to us,” said Emmara.
“What was it all for, then?” Trostani asked.
“Indeed,” said Calomir. “Is that common, for a mind mage to forget so easily?”
Jace’s embarrassment was a paper-thin distance from physical pain. He didn’t look Calomir in the eyes, for fear that he would be moved to put his knuckles in them.
“Jace’s talents can still be of value,” said Emmara quietly.
“I’m sure they can,” said Calomir. “I’m sure his talents can tell us that the Izzet are undertaking a secret project, and that the Rakdos are openly hostile, and that the Azorius fear unrest as tempers flare among the guilds. But then, we already knew all of that, didn’t we, my friends?”
“There was more,” said Emmara. “But he had his research destroyed.”
“Well, it couldn’t have been that important, then.” Calomir smirked. He squeezed Emmara’s hand. “But if you’ll excuse me, some of us are men of action, not thoughts. The Rakdos are on the move, and my talents are needed. Guildmaster Trostani.” He bowed.