of Tezzeret standing amid a whirling wall of illusory wings, and removing a dark globe from a pouch on his belt, doubtless a weapon he'd never get to use.
As the chaos of the Eternities pummeled him, Jace breathed a sigh of relief. Even if Tezzeret had seen him go, even if he'd slain the drake the moment Jace vanished, it would take him minutes if not hours to follow, and by then Jace would be long-
Tendrils of entropy and probability rippled, coiling upward and in on themselves, and Tezzeret stood before him, a vicious grin on his face and a vile gleam in his eye. No hesitation, no delay-he was simply there. In all the Blind Eternities, nothing had ever shocked Jace more thoroughly. He stared at the artificer's soul, an abomination of blood and metal, of hatred and greed, and he could not move.
It wasn't possible, it wasn't…
Tezzeret clutched Jace by the collar and shoved, muscles and magic working in tandem to carry them back through the barrier of worlds. They reappeared a dozen feet above the desert floor and crashed painfully to the ground.
Jace, too stunned by the sudden assault even to draw breath, felt the remaining air rush from his lungs, felt fire flash across the back of his head at the impact, and then the blinding light of the desert went mercifully black.
CHAPTER THIRTY
As Jace gradually, awoke, an armada of aches and pains laying siege to his body, his first thought was to wonder if he should be surprised that he still lived. He decided it wasn't worth the effort, and cracked open his eyelids.
He lay on a pallet of old straw, its needles poking him unpleasantly. He was naked, save for his trousers, and so badly bruised and beaten that he looked as though he'd been rolling in purple paint. One side of his current quarters was a solid wall of metal; thick bars of a matte-gray alloy formed the other three. Other than the pallet and a cracked clay chamber pot, the cell was featureless. He couldn't even see an obvious door, locked or otherwise.
The place probably smelled, too, but over his own stale sweat, he couldn't tell.
The cell itself stood at one end of a large metal chamber, equally featureless, with a single heavy door on the far wall. Jace was pretty certain he was somewhere within Tezzeret's sanctum, but beyond that, he couldn't be sure of a damn thing.
Staggering to his feet with a series of pained grunts, Jace wobbled over and tapped a knuckle on a bar. Solid, very solid, but not as cold as he'd have expected. It wasn't etherium, but neither was it typical iron or steel.
But of course, Tezzeret wouldn't have been even remotely so stupid as to try to keep a planeswalker in a normal cell, would he?
Just to be sure, and because he felt as though he should at least make the effort, Jace summoned his will, to walk, to cast a spell, to do something.
Nothing. He might as well have harbored no Spark at all, might as well never have heard of magic or mana.
'Ah, excellent. You're awake!'
The door had slid open without a whisper, and Baltrice stood framed within. She sauntered to the cell, wearing perhaps the cruelest grin Jace could ever recall seeing.
'Fascinating, don't you think?' she said, tapping on the bars with Jace's manablade before replacing the weapon at her own waist. 'Another little secret we, um, borrowed from the Church of the Incarnate Soul. The bars are enchanted to absorb mana, Beleren. Inside, for all practical purposes, magic doesn't exist.'
He sneered at her, crossing his arms over his bare chest. She chuckled and aimed a finger toward the wall at his left. The metal shimmered, flickered, and Tezzeret's face appeared.
'Why am I alive?' Jace asked bluntly, refusing to give the bastard a moment to gloat.
Tezzeret merely lapsed into a thoughtful expression. 'I believe I've explained to you on past occasions how poorly I take betrayal, have I not?'
Jace rolled his eyes.
'You are alive,' the artificer said, 'partly because I want to give you some time to truly comprehend the depths of my disappointment-but mostly because I require a few months to complete my arrangements for you. You see, Beleren, since I've actually managed to take you alive, I've decided your talents are too valuable to waste. Mind-reading is a precious commodity indeed.
'So if I cannot trust an agent to perform such tasks for me, I'll simply have to construct a device to do so. An artifact that will preserve and manipulate the portions of your brain that allow for such wonders.'
Despite himself, Jace felt the urge to fall back from the image on the wall.
'I should think,' the artificer said with an oily grin, 'that if I build the device just right, I can retain enough of your persona that you'll remain conscious and aware of what's happened to you, without the slightest ability to do anything about it.'
Baltrice leaned in toward the bars, enjoying her captive's fear, no matter how hard he sought to mask it.
'You'll try to escape, of course,' Tezzeret said matter-of-factly, as though it were a foregone conclusion. 'And you'll fail. Even if you somehow find a way past the bars, I've poisoned you while you were unconscious. It's an eldritch toxin, dormant for now, thanks to the lack of magic in that cell. Step beyond the bars, though, and you'll be so sick as to be nearly dead in a matter of minutes.' The image shrugged. 'It'll metabolize out of your system in a few months, but I imagine I'll have your new accommodations ready by then.'
He nodded to Baltrice, and the image faded from the wall. She grinned in anticipation, overjoyed as Jace began to tremble openly. 'In the meantime,' she exulted, 'the boss has told me that until he's ready to cut you apart, as long as I cause no permanent damage- you're mine!'
Flames erupted on the three open sides of the cell, inches beyond the enchanted bars, and if magic couldn't penetrate the claustrophobic prison, the heat and the smoke could. Jace fell back, arms thrown up to protect his face. His skin blistered, his lungs cried out for air, but he swore, he swore, that he would not scream.
It was an oath he succeeded in keeping for almost a minute.
He lost track of time, there in that manmade purgatory. How long at a stretch was he left alone, filthy and starving, wondering if the next time that door opened would be the last? How many times did he flinch when the door did open, before he knew if it was some servant come with gruel and water, or Baltrice eager for another of their 'sessions'?
The lights in the chamber neither dimmed nor brightened. The consistency of the food never changed. Jace slept fitfully, never knowing how long, never knowing if he'd wake up again, or even if he wanted to. His hair was brittle and uneven where the edges had burned away, his skin charred in spots and patches, some of which might never fully heal.
And Jace endured, for what else could he do?
It might have been days, then, or possibly weeks, when the door to the outside world opened once more, and it was neither Baltrice nor a food-toting servant who stood within.
'Hello, Jace.'
'Get out of here,' Jace demanded, his voice made hoarse by smoke and screams.
Liliana allowed the door to slide shut behind her. Tentatively, as though each step pained her, she moved through the room until she stood barely more than an arm's reach from the bars.
'I'm sorry I didn't come sooner,' she told him, her voice quiet. 'I told Tezzeret that I was trying to deliver you to him, but it took him some time to even start to trust me, even after his damned truth elixirs. As it is, he's 'letting me stay' while we discuss my future place in the Consortium mostly so he can keep an eye on me.'
'Either go away,' the prisoner growled, flexing his fingers, 'or take a step closer.'
'Damn it, Jace! They're going to kill you!'
'So I'm told. You came to watch?'
