"There is no difference," Urza said.
Again came the laugh. "If you had any inkling why that was funny, you might understand why we have so little love for you." She shrugged. "Oh, well. It is time." Her eyes closed for a moment. The air around her shimmered with a silent conversation. "Kristina will be right out."
"Kristina?"
"You need eight planeswalkers to power these contraptions of yours, right?" Freyalise asked. "Kristina is a planeswalker. Get rid of Szat."
Urza shook his head. "No, I need Szat. I'll get rid of Parcher. He's a bit of a lunatic."
"A bit?" said Freyalise and Daria in unison. They traded glances, and Freyalise said, "This is going to be more fun than I thought."
Another presence shimmered into being. Kristina had deeply tanned skin and long brown hair done up with beads. She had the angular intensity of a mage and the presence of an oracle. Taking shape beside Taysir, she took his hand in hers. Her voice was mellifluous and low.
"So good to see you again, Taysir. We'll be seeing much of each other in the next months."
He bowed in midair. "Nothing would make me more glad."
Feeling vaguely sick, Urza swept his arm in a broad gesture over the floating assemblage of planeswalkers. The thistledown Inner Sanctum of Freyalise melted away.
A stiff salt breeze burst over them, flung up from fifteen-foot billows. Beyond the rails, the sea was black beneath the Glimmer Moon. Clouds dragged rags across the sky. A deck of rugged wood solidified beneath the feet of the company. The ship ran lightless through midnight seas. The pirate ship was immediately familiar to them all.
"Bo Levar?" Freyalise asked dubiously. "The cigar smuggler?"
Urza blinked, his gemstone eyes glimmering in the dark. "He prefers 'interplanar merchant.' After all, the laws of continental embargo should not extend between worlds."
"Whatever his title, he's a patriot," Taysir said, licking his lips. "I hope he has a crate of Urborgan maduros."
"You bet," said Bo Levar, leaping down from the dark stern castle to light among the planeswalkers. He wore the aspect of a young man, with sandy hair and a trim mustache and goatee. "You can have two. The rest are bound for Mercadia. The Ramosians have gotten really fond of them."
"It's time," Urza said.
"You're telling me," Bo replied, shaking his head. "It was easy enough to run a Benalish blockade, but these Phyrexian plague ships aren't as friendly." He sighed. "Still, business can't wait. I'll take these to the Outer Sea of
Mercadia, give instructions to my crew, and meet you all- where?"
"At Tolaria, in the Phyrexian rift."
Bo made a gagging face. "You're still working in that stink hole?"
"It's fast time," Urza replied defensively. "I get ten days inside for each one outside."
"Yeah, but it stinks," Bo said. "I'll bring a crate of candellas to cut the air."
Urza clapped his shoulder genuinely. "It is good to have you with us." Spreading his arm toward the others, he said, "We'll see you there momentarily."
Even as Bo Levar replied, midnight sky and ocean swell and the ship between them faded from being.
In their place, a great library formed. Shelves ran away into infinity. Their edges curved in the blue distance. It was said one who walked a straight line through the Library of Commodore Guff would end up walking in his own footsteps. More frightening still, every volume in that infinite place was the history of some place in the multiverse, and the old commodore had read them all.
As the planeswalkers materialized among the books, Commodore Guff himself appeared. He had a raft of reddish-blond hair, an aggressive beard and eyebrows, and an intent eye behind his monocle. The glass fell from his eye and dropped into the book he held. In the same motion Commodore Guff's mouth fell open.
"Are you here to borrow or to return?"
"It's time," Urza said simply.
Commodore Guff scowled. "No…" From the red vest he wore, the man fished out a pocket watch-a device the young Urza had fashioned as an apprentice in Yotia. "Well, bother. It is time."
Daria gave him a dubious look. "You don't even know what we're talking about."
"There, you are wrong, young lady," the commodore huffed. "We are talking about time, and I know all about time. I know what is supposed to happen in it and what actually does happen in it. I know the difference between history and reality. I have dedicated my life to making reality conform more closely to history." Daria's expression grew only more unimpressed. "How can there be histories for things that haven't even happened yet?"
Waggling a finger beside his shaggy ear, Commodore Guff said, "And I would ask you how things can happen unless there is history?"
"Damn it," Urza said, growing irate. "We're wasting time." "Yes! Damn it," Commodore Guff said, tapping his pocket watch. "Damn it! Damn it!" He slipped the device into a vest pocket, seemed to lose it, and patted furiously. Nettled, he looked up. "Do you know what Teferi did? Phased out Zhalfir and Shiv! That'll take about a century to sort out-the little sneak." "One thing at a time," Urza said, trying to calm the man. "Yes." Commodore Guff nodded, quietly adding, "Damn it…" "All right, one final stop," Urza said, sweeping his companions away with him in a sudden planeswalk. The infinite library of Commodore Guff ceased to be, though the waistcoated gentleman still clutched a book from it. He slammed the volume closed, noticed his monocle was missing, and patted his vest again.
The crew arrived in utter blackness. Brimstone scented the air. Normally, planeswalkers could see into the darkest corners. Where sight was denied them, it was denied by one of their ilk.
That one circled them even now. His presence was titanic. His flesh was gelid and rubbery. A hint of a long tentacle slipped away into inky darkness. A scaly shoulder showed itself and was gone. A baleful eye watched them all. There came the distinct impression of teeth set in a razor smile.
"Bother!" Commodore Guff said, gaping into the darkness.
"Tevash Szat? Since when does he want to make Dominaria anything but an ice cube?"
The voice that answered seethed gladly. "You know me. Yes. I once tried to freeze the world-no thanks to you, Freyalise-only wishing to preserve it in perfect memory. I fight for Dominaria. How could it be preserved if it is overrun by… roaches?"
The commodore sniffed. "You yourself have had dealings with those roaches."
"Yes," the voice allowed quietly. "When the dealings suited me. Losing the world to Yawgmoth does not suit me."
"We are all agreed on that," Urza said. "Szat will be our inside agent. He knows Phyrexia better than even I."
"You spoke of eight guardians of Dominaria, aside from yourself, Urza," Taysir pointed out. "Who is the last?"
"Lord Windgrace. Just now, he aids Barrin in the battle of Urborg. I will send for him when the isles are secure. As for the rest of us-" the gesture was unseen, though it encompassed even dark-swathed Tevash Szat.
Suddenly they stood within a deep, dark canyon. Its floor and walls were black basalt. A dome of scintillating energy shimmered above. A volcanic plateau dominated the center of the cleft. On that prominence rested a weird city fashioned of obsidian. Once, this valley had been filled with Phyrexians, trapped within a fast time rift. They had built-and been purged from-the City of K'rrick. Since then, the gorge had become Urza's private laboratory. In it, nine new wonders had taken shape.
"Titans, I call them," Urza said, breathing happily.
Against the walls of the canyon sat nine monumental figures. They seemed huge warriors, slumped in rest. Each colossus was a suit of power armor. Massive armaments bristled from the hands and shoulders and feet of the machines-ray cannons, plasma blasters, powerstone ballistae, energy bombards, sonic shock generators, falcon engines, and countless other innovations.
"Bother," Commodore Guff said, paging through the book he held. "There's not a single word written on these yet."