around the multitude of tentacles. It reached out once more, but its movements were slow and feeble. Several of the thinner limbs looked ready to give out entirely. The drake circled the yard once more, coming back for another pass that would reduce the construct to slag.
But as its foe turned in its aerial acrobatics, the wobbling golem reached out and slammed a limb into a broken, weatherworn gate, lying before the entrance to one of the buildings. Instantly the iron crumbled into rusted particles-and just as swiftly, the tentacles straightened, whole and hearty once more, with no trace of their injuries save several sporadic scorch marks.
More than a dozen of the tendrils lashed clear across the yard, the force of their attack shaking even the cobblestones, to meet the drake halfway. Bladed limbs flew, claws raked across iron, sparks fell to sputter out upon the ground. And Jace could only cringe as the drake plunged, bleeding, into the center of the mass and slowly faded from view. He felt a sob of frustration and fear begin to well up within and mercilessly crushed it down, allowing himself only a faint gasp of pain in its place.
'Again, Beleren!' Tezzeret shouted over Jace's shout of denial, of despair. 'Summon again!'
He had almost nothing left. Leaning against a wall, breathing hard, Jace watched with wide eyes as the wriggling limbs reached toward him once more. He'd never summoned anything more potent than the steam- tongued drake; it had always been his ace in the hole, a creature that none of his foes could best. He was exhausted from a week of sporadic sleep, aching from the blows he'd already taken, almost tapped out by the summons he'd already cast. Burning hell, he hadn't even had breakfast!
But he knew, as well, that he could not take another pummeling. It wasn't that he was concerned about physical pain, not anymore: he refused to admit further weakness to the metal-armed bastard across the way.
Jace sank to the floor, his legs hunched, his back against a wall. In and out he breathed, slowly, ignoring as best he could the metal fiend that drew ever nearer. And he reached, carefully, desperately, for the river that flowed through the heart of Ravnica, past the borders of Dravhoc district. The Rubblefield wasn't built on the banks of that river, but it wasn't all that far. Jace's familiarity with it might just be enough.
He touched her mind and soul, felt her respond to his call. He'd sensed her before, though he'd never known precisely who or what she was, felt her watching him as he sent his senses into the aether, practiced the litanies and exercises that, when put together, would comprise summoning spells more potent than any he'd ever tried to cast. This wasn't how he'd planned to test himself, to try such a powerful summons, but Tezzeret had taken the choice from him.
Channeling mana from the river as though he himself were nothing but a tributary, Jace threw his power and his will and his need into the void.
The stone wall of one of the surrounding structures burst outward, reduced to a snowlike powder as something immensely powerful struck it from behind. An enormous leonine body squeezed through the gap, cracking the stone farther as it appeared. The fur that coated her sleek form was an unnaturally deep blue, but multihued wings spread from her back, and her head and face were those of a beautiful, and very angry, woman. Her eyes flickered briefly over Jace's bloodied form, and then to the metallic limbs that threatened him. She hurled back her head and uttered a roar that wasn't remotely feminine, and took to the air with a leap of her hind legs, a leap so powerful she scarcely had to spread her wings at all before she landed atop her foe.
Her great weight and greater strength brought a dozen tendrils crashing to the earth. They thrashed at her, with razor-edged blades and bone-breaking cudgels. Most of its attacks she swatted aside, a cat enjoying the feeble struggling of a dying lizard. Of those that connected, most rebounded from her toughened hide; only once did the golem's blade cut deep, drawing blood as blue as the sphinx's fur. She roared once more, reared high, and came crashing down with all her weight, front paws flying faster than the eye could see. And when she finally stopped and stepped away, Tezzeret's construct was nothing but a pile of shredded strips, for her claws pierced iron as easily as they would have flesh. The courtyard suddenly reeked of strange oils and base metals.
Jace gave her a smile of deep gratitude, even bowing his head as he dismissed the summons, allowing her to return to her distant home. And then he turned and glared as Tezzeret appeared above him, applauding softly.
'Are you happy now?' Jace spat at him.
'Indeed.' Tezzeret knelt until he could meet the younger man's eyes. 'You've learned three vital lessons today, Beleren. You've learned that strength unused is strength you do not have, that you should never hold back your full potential. You've learned to call allies far greater than any you've yet commanded.'
'And the third?' Jace asked, trying hard neither to scream at Tezzeret nor to roll his eyes at this 'lesson.'
'You've learned that you already strip free will from other creatures when it suits you. What else are you doing, when you summon up a sprite, or a drake, or a sphinx, to fight and possibly to die for you?'
Jace felt the blood drain from his face, and he wondered why he'd never considered that before.
'Baltrice told me what you did to the ratman,' the artificer said. 'I know you can do it, and now I've shown you that you are indeed willing to do it. So the next time I order you to do so, I expect you to obey. Without hesitation, and without complaint.
'Go take yourself to the healers before any of those freeze up on you.'
And with that he was gone, striding from the broken courtyard.
Jace watched the artificer depart, and his eyes narrowed in smoldering resentment. Yes, these were indeed the sorts of insights Tezzeret often tried to impart. Yes, he had indeed mastered potent magic today. And no, Tezzeret had never said one word about the failed Kamigawa excursion.
But Jace, clutching at his ribs and his stomach as he rose, staring at the ruins through his one good eye, damn well knew a punishment when he was dealt one.
There was only so much the healers could do, and by late the next afternoon, Jace was still sore all over, and so mottled with bruises he looked like a plague victim. Still, the messenger who came pounding on his door had been drenched in sweat, and the tone in his voice left little doubt that when Paldor had said 'Right now,' he'd meant right now. So Jace swallowed the pain as best he could and sprinted through the halls of the complex, squeezing past servants and soldiers where he could, shoving them out of the way where he could not. Finally, his feet had carried him to the foyer just inside the main entryway. There he skidded to a halt, panting heavily, and allowed himself a moment to take in the scene.
Paldor stood beside the doorway through which Jace had just barreled. His hands were clasped behind his back-but the young mage couldn't help but notice that those meaty hands held a crossbow, cocked and ready to fire. Half a dozen Consortium soldiers and swordsmen, Kallist included, held naked steel in their hands and stood in a circle around a stranger whose crooked grin suggested that he found the whole affair amusing.
He was human, this newcomer, with blond hair slicked back so tightly it just had to be giving him a headache. He was clad in black suede tunic and pants, topped with an ankle-length cloak of deep burgundy, complete with gold clasp and black lace frills at the collar. He wore a curved dagger at his waist but currently held his hands to the sides, well away from the weapon's hilt.
'What's going on?' Jace gasped to Paldor.
The corpulent lieutenant harrumphed. 'Fellow claims to be a messenger from Tezzeret's 'master.''
For a long moment, Jace just stared. 'Master?' he finally repeated.
'Nicol Bolas. Bastard's got a warped sense of humor, apparently.'
'Who…' Jace's eyes lit up with understanding. 'Is that who Tezzeret stole the Consortium from?' he whispered, so as not to be overheard. He gave some thought to the mind-speech, decided it wasn't worth the effort.
'I prefer to think of it as having annexed the organization for the greater good,' Paldor replied, his voice equally faint.
'And he knows where to find us? He just, what, knocked on our door?'
'Pretty much,' Paldor told him. 'Bolas has a network as large as the Consortium. We may be rivals, but we still have to communicate. Ravnica's heavily populated enough that nobody's going to risk open war, so it's sort of neutral territory. Here, if nowhere else, we each know where to find representatives of the other.'
'I see,' Jace said, though he wasn't certain he really did. 'And I'm here to…?'
'Read his mind. He claims he's got a written message for Tezzeret's eyes only. I want to make damn sure he's not an assassin or some sort of magical construct before I even consider putting him in touch with the boss.'
