“We shouldn’t be surprised that the guilds are on the rise again,” said Emmara. “The guilds are the pillars of history. The backbone of our entire civilization for thousands of years, and no matter what anyone said, the Guildpact was what held them together. But the Guildpact is gone. Dissolved. No magical enforcement of any of the treaties or laws. The guild leaders aren’t bound by the old strictures anymore.”
Jace thought of those he had known who sought power—Liliana, Tezzeret, Nicol Bolas. He thought of how they always used their power to gain more of it. “Any center of power is going to test its boundaries.”
Emmara nodded. “And without those boundaries …”
“You think they’re going to try to exceed them.”
Emmara looked at the brittle woodcarving in Jace’s hands. “They’ve already begun to.”
“Who? The Rakdos?” Jace guessed. He had never understood why Ravnicans had allowed a murderous, demon-venerating cult to remain one of the ten official guilds—it just seemed too dangerous. The going theory was that the Rakdos guild provided well-sought services of mayhem and perverse entertainment to those who possessed wealth and power, and that this was enough for them to be kept around.
“No,” Emmara said. “It’s the Izzet. Izzet mages have made illegal incursions into other guilds’ territories.” The Izzet League—the same guild of magical experimenters that had often been present when Jace had uncovered stone artifacts carved with the code.
“But isn’t that an issue for the lawmages? Shouldn’t the Azorius maintain those borders?”
“They’re trying. The Azorius Senate has been issuing injunctions and rulings against the Izzet day after day, at the request of the other guilds. But without the Guildpact, the Azorius have become toothless bureaucrats. Their legislation is just words on paper. Niv-Mizzet doesn’t seem to care.”
Niv-Mizzet was the guildmaster and founder of the Izzet League, an inquisitive and profoundly ingenious archmage who also happened to be an ancient dragon. If the Izzet had a new scheme, Niv-Mizzet was sure to be its source.
“What has the dragon said?”
“Nothing. Whatever the Izzet are undertaking, they’re keeping it secret.”
“And you want to find out what their project is about.” You want me to find out what it’s about, he thought.
“Trostani, my guildmaster, thinks it’s urgent for the Izzet to be open about what they’re planning. But if they won’t cooperate, suspicions will grow among the guilds. Tensions will rise. It could lead to a conflict that could tear the guilds apart.” She spread her hands, and clasped them again. “We need the Izzet to cooperate.”
Jace sat back and took a breath, examining Emmara’s face. She was trying not to plead with him, but he could see the urgency behind her expression. There was an edge to her manner that he hadn’t seen in her before. It wasn’t fear. She had no concern for any threat to her own safety. He sensed that she spoke out of an obligation—something deeply felt, a concern over and above loyalty to her guild. He wondered if there was someone else whom she was protecting.
“How can I help?”
Her smile glowed. “Join us,” she said. “Help us. Help us to understand what the Izzet might be doing, so we can maintain peace in this district, and all the districts.”
“You want me to join your guild?”
“You’d be welcome in the Conclave. The Selesnya believe in bringing people together, in building ways for all of us to coexist. Jace, with your talents—you’d have such potential for connecting with people. We could use you.”
“I don’t know.” A guild would mean tying himself to a set of values, to one point of view. Most of all, it meant tying himself to the plane of Ravnica. And he wasn’t sure, even if he were to select one of Ravnica’s guilds, that he would choose the Selesnya. Jace looked around the sanctum, indicating the research around them with a vague gesture. “I have a lot of projects going on … I can’t commit to that right now.”
“But you’d be able to help so many people. I’m influential in the guild, Jace. Trostani has selected me as a kind of dignitary. And you could be such a natural at bonding with people. We could work toward the same ends. We could learn the truth. Together.”
Jace hesitated. Not many people had ever looked at him the way Emmara was looking at him in that moment. He wanted to say something that would make her look at him that way for a lot longer. He imagined the way her face would brighten even more if he told her yes—how he could touch her hand and tell her that nothing was more important to him than joining her, helping her. He wished he could go through with it, for her sake.
But he couldn’t.
“I’m sorry. I just can’t join the Selesnya. But maybe I could help in another way.”
Emmara’s smile melted. “Oh. I’m too late, then. You’re part of another guild already?”
“No. That’s not it.” He thought of all the time he spent on other planes. He thought of all the mysteries that drew him from one side of the Multiverse to the other. “I’m just not … someone who likes to get too attached.”
That struck her. “I see,” she said and stood. Her demeanor reverted to formality and etiquette. “Well, I should be going. I have a lot of guild matters to attend to. Thank you for your time, Jace. It was good to see you.”
“No, Emmara, I’m sorry,” he said, standing with her. “I just meant I can’t afford to get mixed up in any of the … guild politics right now. I’m researching something important, and it’s taking up all of my time. I’d love to help you after I solve this.”
She nodded. “We’d love to have you,” she said. When she was at Jace’s door, she turned. “That leaf I gave you is a Selesnya artifact, made by a woodshaper. You can use it to contact me, if you want. Just say the activating words into it, and I’ll be able to hear you.”
Jace looked at her gift in his hand. “What are the words?”
“ ‘I need you.’ ”
The streetlamps had begun to glow by the time the Selesnya elf woman left the building. Mirko Vosk stood on the building’s flat rooftop, near the ledge, watching her walk off into the night. Following the woman had paid off, and not in the way he had expected.
Vosk’s eyes reflected the light of the streetlamps like a cat’s, and he was nearly bare-chested despite the cool evening. He walked over to the chimney opening again, where he had listened at it with his sharp ears, but he heard no more from the man she had visited. She had shown clear interest in this man, an acquaintance of hers she called Jace. She believed in his talents—likely some kind of mage. And this Jace had mentioned that he had been conducting research about some sort of pattern or code.
That was exactly the kind of information Mirko Vosk’s master would want to possess. The Selesnya woman smelled appetizing, and her direct access to Trostani was valuable. But Vosk sensed that he had more than one target now.
Mirko Vosk stepped off the ledge of the building. Instead of falling, he floated into the night sky with a casual, upright elegance. It was time to seek an audience with his hidden master.
The Izzet mages weren’t hard to find. After a couple of days of observation, Jace heard an explosion and saw a startled a flight of birds from across the district. The plume of blue smoke was a telltale sign of one of the Izzet’s pyrotechnic experiments. Jace tracked the source of the blast and spied two mages, a human and a goblin, outfitted with alchemical gadgetry and mizzium gauntlets. They emerged from a disused tunnel, leaving behind charred bricks and a haze of smoke, and their instruments crackled with energy. From what Jace had gathered, this was the Izzet style of research: keep adding energy until something blows up, then observe the results.