tabletop above him. Something had ridden the fire to earth.
Muttering a handful of curses, he tensed. The Cloud-Winged Guard's numbers were few, and the districts they patrolled quite large. If something was hunting him in the plaza, waiting for their unpredictable response was no longer an option.
Glancing over his shoulder, he measured the distance to the nearest exit, wanting desperately to run. He might make it but without knowing what was clawing its way across the table, or how far it might chase him, he certainly wouldn't have bet what little money he had left on his chances.
A quartet of Jaces lunged from beneath the table, each sprinting in a different direction to take cover beneath or behind some other flame-resistant obstruction, this one a pillar, that one another table. The thing that had skittered across the stone watched all four. Its ears lay back in confusion, and it stretched its mouth wide to utter an angry hiss that was the crackle of a dozen bonfires.
It might have been a cat, this thing, had it not been roughly the size of a hunting dog-and had it not been made entirely of a living, semi-solid flame.
Moving in concert, all four images of Jace leaned out from cover. From their outstretched hands, a thick spray of freezing water arced across the open-air cafe to drench the fiery predator. A geyser of steam shot into the air, and the hiss of water-on-fire almost drowned out the terrified shriek of the elemental.
Then the images, the water, even the steam were gone. The feline creature stood, utterly confused, its animalistic mind unable to grasp the concept of illusion.
And Jace-the real Jace, who had been none of the four phantoms but wrapped tight in an illusion of invisibility-rose up before the distracted, disoriented beast, hauled back a fist and struck.
No mere punch, this, but a devastating blow of mystical force. Telekinesis had never been among Jace's stronger skills-the lifting of a simple fork or the opening of a distant window took everything he had-but manipulation of himself? That came far more easily. More than easily enough, with a few seconds of preparation and a surge of mana, to augment the strength of his own harms, to reach out and violently flip the table.
The flaming beast flew from the tabletop to sail dozens of feet through the air-clear over the protective wall that marked the edge of the terrace, plummeting from sight. Jace didn't know how many levels of Dravhoc it might have dropped, or whether the fall would be sufficient to kill it, but he knew he intended to be well gone before it could return.
For an instant, Jace cast his senses outward, peering behind walls, around corners, over ledges. But his cursory examination failed to locate the wizard who had summoned the beast, and he wasn't about to hang around for a prolonged search. The singed hem of his cloak swirling dramatically, Jace moved at a brisk walk toward the cafe's exit, trying hard to peer around him in every direction at once, and wondered just who he'd managed to piss off this time.
Two levels above, near the very peak of the mountain, a man stood within the high, arched confines of a tower window. He stared down, not with the naked eye, but through a peculiar crystalline device, globes within globes. Within its confines, he watched the events of the cafe unfold, lowering the sphere only when Jace Beleren swept from the open patio and into the bustling avenues.
And still he waited, until he was joined several moments later by a woman, taller than he, broader of shoulder, with a shock of ash-gray hair that made her appear far older than her years.
'Not a bad performance,' he said to her without preamble. 'He survived your firecat easily enough, my dear.'
'Bah.' She shrugged, leaning against the side of the massive window frame. 'I'm not impressed. Decent reaction time, and I won't deny he's got power. But we've rejected recruits who performed a lot better.'
'We have. But then, we're not after Jace Beleren for his reaction time or even his illusions, are we?
'We'll see how he performs for Gemreth. And then we'll decide if we can make Jace Beleren who, and what, we need him to be.'
To Jace's paranoid and worry-addled mind, every insect flitting in the darkness was the eye of an enemy; every echo the footsteps of an unseen stalker creeping across the cobblestones; every stranger an assassin set to grab him from behind; every overhanging banner a noose that hungered for his neck. He trod the roads, the alleys, and the broad steps of the descending avenues as swiftly as he dared, jumping at every sound, peering suspiciously at every shadow, until he finally reached his destination.
What Jace called home was a modest three-room flat, located in one of Dravhoc's lowest tiers, where the scents of the river filled the humid air with a vaguely fishy aroma and the cost of living was only moderately outrageous. It was cheaper than anywhere else in the extravagant quarter, yes, but its proximity to the shore and the tiny islands beyond filled Jace with a sense of security. Jace had never understood, and none of his teachers had satisfactorily explained, why the magics of the mind were best and most efficiently empowered by the mana that drifted and flowed within the waters of the many worlds; he knew only that it was so.
With a sigh of profound relief, Jace slammed his door behind him, leaning briefly against it and trying to calm himself. That he'd made many enemies throughout the past few years was no surprise at all, considering how he'd supported his preferred lifestyle. That any of them could have found him so exposed, however, was worrisome in the extreme. He turned, locking the door's four deadbolts. Without lighting a lantern, he tossed his cloak haphazardly over an old coat rack, stepped into the next room, and collapsed into bed without bothering to get undressed. He'd deal with the rumples and wrinkles in the morning; right now he just needed time to relax, to meditate on the mana flowing through the currents beyond the shore.
Despite his nervous energy, he was asleep within minutes, wrapped in peculiar and disturbing dreams wherein he tried to bribe a giant cat not to spit fire at him, only to find he couldn't afford the beast's asking price. He ran from the predator, calling for help, as embers rained from the sky.
And then he was awake, screaming at the terrible pain that throbbed in his chest.
Craning his head until his neck ached, Jace stared at the horrid shape squatting atop his torso. Only scarcely visible in the dark of the chamber, it stood on four legs that jutted obscenely from its sides like those of an insect. Two more appendages emerged from its shoulders to clutch at his collar. Its head was that of a jolly, almost cherubic old man, which stood in stark contrast to the wicked stinger at its tail, dripping with Jace's own blood.
'What-' Jace froze in mid-question, his jaw clenching tight as his body spasmed with a new surge of pain. 'What do-?' He couldn't seem to force out the question.
'You tell me, mind-reader,' the demon hissed in a voice that quivered with palsy.
'I–I can't!' He could barely concentrate enough to speak, let alone read its mind.
'You will! Tell me why I am here, Jace Beleren, and what I wish from you, and I will provide respite from this pain. Fail and the poison shall run its course!'
Jace scarcely even reacted to the use of his name, though he'd never done business in Dravhoc as anyone but Berrim, and never revealed the name 'Jace' to anyone since he'd arrived on the sprawling, urban world of Ravnica. He struggled to rise, to throw the terrible thing away from him, but the last of his strength was drowning swiftly beneath the toxin's spreading burn.
He wanted to cry out, to scream, to rail against the unfairness of it all, but he did none of these. Squeezing shut his eyes, clenching his jaw until his teeth ached, he forced himself to calm.
Long moments passed and the pain grew steadily worse, but Jace remained focused and stared down at the creature once more. Scarcely visible even in the darkened room, his eyes began to glow.
'Your master, your summoner, is a mage called Gemreth,' he told the demon through trembling lips. 'You were told that his master, called Tezzeret, wants to meet me. The First Vineyard, an hour after dusk tomorrow.' Even through the pain, Jace felt his anger growing, burning away the worst of his weakness. 'This was a test!' he accused his vile attacker.
'A test indeed, Jace Beleren. And you have passed.' The horrific vermin skittered off him and made for the window.
'Antidote…' he croaked, his throat dry with agony.
Somehow, the inhuman creature shrugged. 'Poison's not lethal,' it cackled at him as it scurried over the sill. 'You'll be fine in an hour or two.'
Jace watched it go, the rage and humiliation burning within him as fiercely as the poison itself. He fell back
