how horrifying Jace found the idea of losing his will to another? How filthy it made him feel, to the depths of his soul, to contemplate doing it to someone else?
What he said instead was, 'What you're asking of me… It could go wrong in a dozen different ways. It could kill him.'
'You're worried about the life of a traitor to the Consortium?'
Jace quailed but stood his ground. 'I am if I have to be inside his mind when it happens,' he offered as his excuse.
'I see.' Tezzeret nodded, then turned to face the guards. 'A pity. I was hoping to have you erase all knowledge of the Consortium from his mind, so we wouldn't have to execute him. He truly is a skilled bookkeeper. We could have hired him for some of our local businesses, those that don't require direct contact with Consortium secrets.' The artificer heaved an obviously artificial sigh, and waved one of the guards forward.
'Ah, well. I can understand your reluctance,
Beleren.' He reached out, drew the sword from the guard's belt and reversed it, holding it hilt- first toward Jace. 'So, all right. Just kill him, then.'
The steel walls seemed to close on him so tightly that Jace actually took a moment to stare at them, to reassure himself they hadn't somehow slipped their tracks. 'Why…' He cleared his throat, tried to swallow. 'Why me?'
'Because Paldor told me of your 'problems' when you uncovered this man's treason!' Tezzeret hissed at him, his voice as cold as those sliding walls. 'Because you cannot become what you could be-what you should be! — without overcoming the barriers you've placed on yourself!
'You think I'm asking you to kill this man,' he continued, his voice suddenly far more calm. 'But I'm not. I'm asking you to save him, Beleren. I cannot trust him to live with what he knows. I'm asking you to give me another, more merciful option.' Jace stared at him, his jaw working.
'Now,' he continued, breathing deeply, 'take the sword or not, as you choose. But either his memories must go or he must. And if you're to have any place in the Consortium, it will be at your hand.'
Jace clenched his fists until his fingers turned white, and then slowly released a breath, uttered the first words of an incantation…
'No.' Tezzeret reached out and tapped him on the head, just barely hard enough to hurt. 'No summoning. What you do, you do.'
Choking back vomit, Jace spun back toward the table. Mustering everything he had, throwing his all into the spells so he wouldn't have to think of what he was doing, he once more wrapped his awareness around the record- keeper's mind. Again he stared at the fellow's thoughts, his memories, his dreams. And as the better part of him wept, Jace carelessly peeled those thoughts away.
Then he collapsed to his knees, one hand clenched on the edge of the table above his head.
Tezzeret knelt beside him, placed his hand-his left hand, the hand of flesh-on Jace's shoulder. 'Thank you, Beleren. Come.' He rose, helping Jace to his feet as well. 'Share a drink with me in the dining room, before I have to leave Ravnica. Today has been a triumph for us both.'
Surely they must have talked, as they trod the corridors of the complex, as they sat and shared a bottle of Paldor's finest wine. They must have, but Jace could never recall a word of it. He only remembered sitting there, drinking goblet after goblet, long after the artificer had left; drinking until he could no longer remember the slack expression on the archivist's face, the stench of his sweat, or the feel of his slowly vanishing mind.
It wasn't until days later that Jace learned that his powers weren't nearly so precise as he'd believed them to be; that he hadn't erased merely the man's memories of the Consortium, but the memories of his life. That he'd left the man an empty husk, an infant in an adult's body.
But by then, Jace had managed to convince himself that he no longer cared.
For a time, then, Jace's life was routine. His assignments for the Consortium primarily required him to verify information or guard shipments of goods, and while he accompanied Kallist on a great many operations, only a few ended in violence. During the many days between such activities, their lessons continued apace, and if Jace never became more than an adequate swordsman, and Kallist never mastered more than a smattering of spells, still the both of them kept trying.
As Tezzeret had promised, Jace's regular practice honed his spellcasting to a level he might never have achieved alone. His pursuit of Consortium goals took him to new regions of Ravnica, and even twice to other worlds. Here he touched the essence of the land, connected with it, absorbed an ever-increasing flow of mana that empowered his spells further still.
As his power grew, the nature of his assignments became ever more nefarious, ever more brutal. After a few months, he was once again accompanying Kallist on assassinations, though still it was always the swordsman to do the final deed.
And eventually, he no longer needed to drink to stifle the guilt.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
What's wrong, Jace?' Paldor asked, leaning back beneath the clock that hung over his desk.
'A great deal, actually. To start with, I'm trying to find a polite, respectfully subordinate way to tell you to drop dead, and I'm not coming up with one.'
Paldor chuckled, as did the other figure in the room-a figure who was quite definitely not Kallist.
'Afraid to work with me, Jace?' Baltrice sneered at him.
'If by 'afraid' you mean 'would rather run my genitals through a clockwork engine,' then yes.'
Paldor stood and slapped his hands on the desk. 'This,' he rumbled, and suddenly he wasn't nearly so cheery as he had seemed, 'isn't going to go any further. Jace, what's your problem?'
'My problem, Paldor, is that I'd rather work with Kallist. Or Ireena. Or Gemreth, or, um, pretty much anyone else.'
'That's nice,' Paldor told him. 'It's also impossible.'
'Paldor…'
'It's not as though I've a lot of people I can assign to this. The target's not, you might say, local. And you planeswalking types aren't precisely ten a copper. Baltrice is the only other Consortium walker available right now, so that means you work with her.
'But more to the point, these orders come straight from Tezzeret. You're welcome to try to contact him and bitch, if you want.' 'We can do that?' Jace asked in puzzlement. Baltrice snickered.
Paldor pointed to the peculiar, aether-filled glass contraption. 'Every Consortium cell has one, in case we need to get his attention. Break it, and Tezzeret can feel the aether within slip away, knows we need to speak with him.
'Of course, they're only meant for emergencies, and I understand they're monstrously hard to create, but by all means, go ahead. I'm sure he'd consider your misgivings a worthwhile usage.'
Jace wilted. 'I would love beyond all measure to have Baltrice accompany me on this endeavor,' he said hollowly. 'It's a dream I have.'
'I thought that might be your reaction.'
'Same arrangement as with Kallist?' Jace clarified. 'I'm backing her up, I'll be her eyes, but she's doing the job, right?'
'Aww…' Baltrice taunted. 'Does Jace have a weak stomach?'
He ignored her. 'Right?' he asked again.
Paldor nodded. Baltrice smirked. Jace sighed.
'All right. What's the objective?'
'Take a seat, both of you.' Then, once they'd done so, 'You ever hear of a world called Kamigawa?' Paldor asked.
Jace perked up like a wolf spotting a limping dromad. 'Absolutely! I've heard all sorts of fascinating things about that world. I've thought about visiting for some time.'
