mouth, possibly because he still had a thin strand of the stuff stuck between two back teeth. The first night they'd been forced to camp in an alley, huddled together against the rain and the garbage, though they'd thankfully reached an area affluent enough to offer an inn on the second night. Between Liliana's lingering exhaustion and the fact that they had precisely two crossbow bolts to their names (the others having been in the stolen pack), Kallist could only give thanks they'd suffered no further attacks in their travels.
And now that they'd finally arrived, as the zeniths of the highest buildings soared into view, Kallist remembered just how woefully unimpressive the district actually was. Yes, the people of the backwaters like Avaric found it imposing, but for a man born to the towering spires of richer neighborhoods, Favarial inspired only a resounding 'Eh.'
The district's defenses, such as they were, consisted of heavy iron gates at the end of every bridge, and a low wall providing some measure of security from the lake itself. Guards stood post at those gates, jagged halberds and twin-pronged spears ready to repulse an attack that would never come, and otherwise did nothing worthwhile. None bothered to check on or question passing travelers, for what was there to check for?
Shuffle. Step. Wait. Step. Wait. Shuffle. The line inched forward, and Kallist cursed every wasted minute, every pause. When Liliana leaned close and said, 'It might be tough, but I could try to call something up to eat our way to the front of the line,' he could conjure only a wan smile.
As they neared, the temperature rose, the sun reflecting harshly from the still waters and lingering in an air that showed no interest at all in providing a breeze. It was still preferable to days spent soaking in the mosquito- spawning rain-but not by much. And only as they approached the gate did the din of the inner streets wash over them. Again, not as deafening or oppressive as Kallist had felt in other, larger districts, but after so long in Avaric, it was disconcerting enough.
Hot, loud, bright, and smelly. So self-pityingly miserable was Kallist as he finally passed through the gate, he failed to notice one of the guards staring with abnormal intensity at him and his companion, before the press of the crowd blocked the armored woman from view.
All that said… It looked like home to him, at least more so than Avaric ever had. Ornate carvings adorned the columns and high arches of the monolithic buildings- many of which were sculpted from a strange, aquatic-blue stone that gleamed like the lake below-and pennants hung limply from minarets of stone or crystal. The people here were dressed in a variety of bright, jovial colors, commonly seen among the middle classes who wanted to show that they could afford such frivolities as rich and cheerful dyes.
And there were so very, very many of those people, probably at least half as many on this street alone as dwelt in Avaric entire.
Kallist turned to Liliana, his mouth open to make some disparaging comment that she would doubtless find less pithy than he did, and felt a thrill of panic run through him. His hand lashed out, viper-quick, dragging her to a halt. Before she could so much as squawk a protest, he was walking, casually but quickly, off toward one side of the avenue.
'What?' she hissed at him, mouth just beside his ear so that he might hear over the noise of the crowd.
'Probably nothing,' he breathed back at her, though he slackened neither his hold nor his pace. 'But one of the things I learned in my years with the Consortium was that when a whole gaggle of armed guards starts moving in your direction, you want to make a quick trip elsewhere.'
'Is that so?' Liliana tossed her head, as though clearing her hair from her face, and casually glanced back. 'So, um… What do you do when they start pointing at you and yelling, then?'
'That would be run.'
They ran, shoving and elbowing their way through the crowds, crowds that seemed determined to meander as leisurely as possible, to cluster in every intersection, to gather thickly in the fugitives' path and to part like a curtain before the pursuing lawmen.
Kallist and Liliana swiftly grew lost in the unfamiliar byways of Favarial. They knew neither where they were going nor how to return to where they'd been. And the guards, who knew every twist and turn, every nook and cranny, gained ground.
They doubled back around blind turns, and the soldiers traced their route. Kallist cloaked them in images of native passersby while sending their own illusory doppelgangers fleeing down distant byways, yet somehow the guards always knew.
So long had it been since Kallist had faced any real danger-Semner and his thugs aside-that his instincts had grown rusty indeed. Otherwise, he might have seen a handful of Semner's people, scattered across lower rooftops and balconies or hiding within the milling crowd, watching for any sign of deception and signaling to the hunting guards.
A time or two, a thug raised a crossbow, tempted by a perfect shot, only to be dissuaded from pulling the trigger by a companion. As long as the spotters remained unseen, the guards shouldered all the risk. Should the shot go wide or draw the attention of whichever of the twosome was not the target, the results could be unpleasant indeed. And so they kept low and silent, serving only as eyes and ears, rather than hands and blades.
Panting hard, sweating like a demon in church, the mages skidded around still another corner and found themselves staring down the length of an avenue. It was much like any other street, covered in cobblestones, lined by shops that stood far taller than they needed to, in pursuit of status and respectability. It also extended abominably, almost impossibly far before any other street or alleyway offered a viable crossroad. Before them, ambling from one establishment to the next, the crowds formed a living wall. Kallist and Liliana exchanged grim glances, and each knew the other's thoughts as clearly as if they'd spoken.
There was no way they could cover the distance before their pursuers caught up with them.
'If you've been waiting to surprise me with a flying spell,' Liliana said grimly, 'this would be an excellent time.'
Kallist frowned bitterly. 'Jace, maybe, could do it. I don't have the first clue. What about your-'
She shook her head. 'I can hover, but it's not exactly a quick means of escape.' She grimaced and turned to face the nearing pursuit. 'We can take them, Kallist.'
'No. Killing city guards is never worth the repercussions. Trust me, I know.'
And then the time for talk was past. The citizens dispersed, blowing leaves scattering before a wind of armor and blades; Kallist and Liliana found themselves surrounded by a hedge of sword and spear.
'Afternoon, officers,' Kallist said, a sickly grin plastered to his face. 'Is there a problem?'
The man who pushed his way to the front was tall and slender, with an autumn-red mustache drooping over his mouth, and a chin sharp enough to serve as a backup weapon. Human, but perhaps with the faintest trace of elven blood in his ancestry, he wore a sulfur-yellow tabard above a shirt of chain, and a badge of red metal on his left breast in the general shape of a dragon. A mark of rank, probably, but damned if Kallist knew what it meant. Ever since the dissolution of the Legion, every district or aristocrat-employed security force on Ravnica seemed to go whole hog with their own signs and symbols.
'You shouldn't have run,' he barked, his breath heavy with arrogance and a few lingering traces of breakfast eggs. 'My men and I don't enjoy chasing folk. You've just made things harder for yourselves.'
'But we didn't do anything!' Liliana protested, wearing her best wide-eyed, lips-parted, beautifully innocent face. 'You frightened us. Of course we ran; we don't even know why you were chasing us!'
She was good, no doubt; many of the guards found themselves lowering their weapons without conscious thought. But their commander, who had seen it all before and laughed at it then, reacted only to laugh at it once more.
'How about that, boys? They didn't do anything. Guess we have to let them go.'
The youngest soldier on the squad turned toward his commander with puzzled expression. 'Really?'
The older guard rolled his eyes heavenward and cuffed the younger hard across the side of his head.
'We have solid reports,' he told the prisoners, 'of the two of you causing all manner of ruckus, disturbing the peace, and even assaulting citizens over the course of the last couple of days. You're both under arrest.'
'We just passed through the bridge gates no more than an hour ago,' Kallist protested. 'Check with your own damned guards!'
The commander only shrugged. 'They watch hundreds of folk pass in and out every day. Can't be expected to trust their recollections of any specific two, can we?
'But don't worry. If you're telling the truth, we'll get it all sorted out. Won't take more than, oh, I'd say three
