stupid enough to do my dirty work in person.”
“No?” The simulacrum coughed weakly, and after a moment the real Nicol Bolas realized his creation was laughing. At him. “Doing it right now, aren’t you?”
The real Nicol Bolas scowled and made no reply.
“Maybe that’s the real lesson,” the simulacrum said. “You should make a note of it, so you don’t forget.
“Because when you come right down to it, none of us is as smart as we think we are.”
THE BLIND ETERNITIES
In the raging hurricane of chaos that was the Blind Eternities, Tezzeret severed the link of consciousness he had maintained with the etherium device in the head of the fake Bolas and allowed himself a small tight smile.
None of us is as smart as we think we are? he thought. If you only knew.
It would be difficult to seriously imagine a more successful operation. Yes, if he could have somehow effectively neutered the real Bolas, that would have been wonderful-but Tezzeret had never been so vain as to think the great dragon would be so easily taken. Or taken at all.
Still, the next best thing to controlling an enemy is controlling what they believe, and in that, Tezzeret reflected with what he considered to be justifiable pride, he had been exceptionally successful.
The real Nicol Bolas thought the artificer to be not only too dim to penetrate the deception of the simulacrum, but that he sincerely would exert himself to aid the dragon’s plans. This would buy Tezzeret several days’ head start at the very least. He briefly considered returning to the Metal Island exactly as he’d promised. After all, if Bolas actually went to the trouble of creating a new simulacrum, it would be an instructive measure of just how thoroughly duped the dragon was…
He decided against it. There was such a thing as outsmarting yourself. Showing up somewhere the dragon expected him to be would be even more foolish than doing so with Renn had been. Better to just run. Take his head start and bury himself somewhere beyond the dragon’s reach, and begin preparations for their next encounter.
Because there would be a next encounter, and he intended to survive it.
Whether the dragon did or not.
“Ravnica,” he muttered to himself. To really lose oneself, there was no better plane than Ravnica. While he was there, he could look in on Baltrice. And make sure Jace Beleren was still adequately terrorized. “Ravnica it is, then.”
“Sure, Ravnica’s nice.” A familiar wiseass voice buzzed in his left ear. “Let’s just make one stop along the way, huh?”
Tezzeret froze. “Doc?”
“No, Giant Brain, I’m the Voice of festering God.”
“How-? I mean, I thought you were-”
“I was. But I’m all better now. Bolas has this errand for us. On Mirrodin. It’ll be fun. Like a vacation.”
“This isn’t possible-”
“You’re not exactly makin’ me feel welcome, buddy. We don’t need to have another little chat about who’s actually in charge here, do we?”
“You were gone,” Tezzeret growled. “Completely gone-how did you get back inside my head?”
“Come on, Giant Brain. Now you’re just embarrassing yourself. Really.” Doc’s voice carried a note of sarcastic pity that made the artificer want to stab himself in the ear. “All the places Bolas has been, all the stuff he’s done-I mean, seriously. You just had a mindlink going to that etherium doohickey. Did you honestly think he just wouldn’t notice?”
He put a palm to his face. “Kill me. Please, just kill me now.”
“Aww, don’t take it hard, Tezz! The team’s back together, and we’re hitt in’ the road. It’ll be just like old times!”
“Now what’s the good news?”
“Aww…”
“Tell me one thing, Doc,” Tezzeret said. “Do you think Nicol Bolas knows the old saying about ‘he who laughs last’?”
“How should I know?”
“I hope he doesn’t. I hope he doesn’t because one day soon,” the artificer said through his teeth, “I’m going to teach him.”
