by Ari Marmell
Liliana felt a grin stretching over her face, so wide she was sure it had to reach all the way to her ears. She craned her neck, peering around the newcomer, to see Jace halfway between the table and the bar, his eyes locked on the red-bearded man, his brow furrowed in deep concentration. And she laughed, a throaty, musical sound of pure delight.
“I think,” she told the nearby fellow, though her eyes remained on Jace, “that he’s done just fine.”
Jace and his “spokesman” grinned as one; the latter wandered away, shaking his head in puzzlement, while the former returned to the table, two platters of food in hand.
He tossed, he turned, he flipped the pillow, he punched the mattress, he even contemplated casting a spell on himself. But no matter what he tried, Jace couldn’t find his way to sleep.
Dinner had been a disaster. Before Liliana arrived, Kallist had done nothing but talk about his continual hunt for a job in this miserable district, and about how Jace should be finding one, too, if he wasn’t willing to go back to his old methods, about how their stores of gold wouldn’t last forever, and blah, blah, blah.
And after she’d arrived? Jace, who really wanted to get to know Liliana better than their conversation at Eshton’s had allowed, couldn’t have forced his way into the conversation with a battering ram. Everything was about Kallist, Kallist’s history with the Consortium, the various dangers and hazards he’d overcome in their service. Sure, those often involved Jace as well, but he hadn’t realized, until he’d heard someone else tell them, just how much those events had cast him as the sidekick, aiding Kallist in his endeavors.
When all was said and done, Jace knew no more about Liliana Vess than he had that morning, except that she had a habit of salting damn near everything on the table—and that he really enjoyed watching her eat.
Finally Jace rolled out of bed, bound and determined to wake Kallist and have himself a good long rant. Whether he just wanted to yell, or actually hoped to clear the air, he couldn’t say—because when he entered the center room of the three-room flat, he saw the door to Kallist’s chamber standing wide open and empty.
Jace went back to bed and lay awake for hours more, fighting sleep when finally it deigned to come, until he heard Kallist’s steps upon the stair and was certain his friend was returning alone.
It was roughly a week later when Kallist returned from one of his forays with something approaching good news.
“Found a job, have you?” Jace inquired.
“Shift commander in a local merchant’s private guard.”
“A guard? You? You’re kidding!” Jace couldn’t help but laugh and was gratified to see Kallist smile along with him.
“You’d think so, but no. Seems there’s been an increase in crime due to the poor crop growth from the swamp expansion. So the merchants can’t rely on the city guard to protect them, and there’s some sort of underground merchant war going on over what crops are left … Well, it’s all very complex and economical, and you couldn’t care less.”
“Not even remotely,” Jace agreed, still grinning. “I take it this ‘war’ means that you’ll be doing a little more than guarding?”
“I might have a few slightly less legal job duties,” Kallist admitted, “but hey, they pay better.”
“Well, congratulations, Kallist.” Jace honestly meant it, and Kallist was honestly glad to hear it.
The newfound peace lasted through all of three minutes of further conversation.
“By all the Eternities!” Jace squelched the urge to hurl something heavy and pointed at his friend. “How many times are we going to go through this?! I’ve told you more times than there are worlds in the Multiverse, I am not going to risk any hugely ostentatious shows of magic just yet, and I’m certainly not going to lower myself to working some miserable, menial job in a district like Lurias!”
“I see. So that’s reserved for lesser souls like myself, then?”
“It seems to be what you’re good for!” Jace snapped.
Kallist snarled something incomprehensible and was out the door before Jace could apologize—or even decide if he wanted to.
A few moments of grumbling, and then Jace, too, left the flat, slamming the door behind him. Without a single conscious thought, he found his feet taking him once more to Eshton’s Tavern—about the only place in Lurias where just looking around didn’t just piss him off.
It was abnormally crowded for so early in the day. Jace briefly wondered why, until he remembered hearing something about a local celebration. Celebrating what, he had no idea, and didn’t care enough to ask. He shouldered his way through a cluster of people he didn’t know, waved halfheartedly at one or two whose names he remembered, and slumped at the nearest empty table like a petulant child. Other than placing his order, he said nothing, looked at nobody, for some minutes. Until, that is, a familiar shape appeared beside the table.
He looked up in shock. “You work here?!”
Liliana gave him the same look the bartender might have given had he asked for an entire bottle of irrimberry wine—on credit. “Do I look like a barmaid to you?”
“Well, that certainly looks like my mincemeat pie you’re carrying.”
Liliana tossed the platter onto the table and sat down beside him, elbowing him to move over and give her some room. “I saw you coming,” she told him. “This gave me the opportunity to see if you ordered anything I wanted to steal off your plate.” She grinned at him. “And it’s a powerful reminder to be careful how I spend.”
“Oh? How’s that?”
“It reminds me that if I’m not careful, I might actually have to work for a living.” She shuddered theatrically. Jace couldn’t help but grin, despite the sensitive topic.
“So I was going to ask if you minded me joining you,” she told him, taking a forkful of buttered tubers from his plate. “Then I saw your miserable expression, and decided I’d better not ask.” She smiled at him.
“There’s … a lot going on,” Jace said vaguely. Then, “Surely someone with your abilities should have no trouble earning coin.”
Liliana’s smile shrank a bit. “Surely. Assuming I wanted to attract all sorts of attention. Mages may not be the rarest things on Ravnica, but they’re not exactly common—at least not those with the sort of power you and I wield. So what should I do? Put on shows, conjure spirits for people’s amusement? I could work for a merchant family, maybe, but that’s not the best way to avoid Consortium attention. Or maybe kill a few hundred peasants until the people pay me off? I don’t think I care much for that option either. I could walk somewhere else—thought about it, more than once—but I don’t really know anywhere I’d have many more options than Ravnica.
“I’m a little surprised you haven’t thought through the same thing, actually.”
“I have,” Jace said with a frown. “I was just hoping you’d come up with something I hadn’t.”
She chuckled. “Look at us, ‘Darrim.’ We’re quite possibly two of the most powerful people on this world, and here we are discussing jobs and living expenses. Too bad we can’t just turn fungi into gold, right?”
“We were gods, once …” Jace quoted under his breath, then merely shook his head at her questioning glance.
“I can’t imagine it’s a problem for you,” he said, trying to cheer the conversation a bit. “That is, I can’t imagine you’d have trouble finding any number of people to put you up for a while.”
He realized precisely what he’d said at about the same time she did, and blushed outrageously. But even as he opened his mouth to stammer an apology, Liliana burst out laughing.
“You haven’t known many women, have you?” she teased him.
Jace raised an eyebrow. “No, but I’ve always been a quick study,” he replied mockingly.
She turned demurely away, which was just as well; Jace would have been embarrassed for her to see the grin that nearly split his face.
In fact, there had been a few women, albeit only a few, during h
is earlier years—and with most of those, he’d simply pulled their desires and preferences from their minds—and none at all since he’d come to Ravnica. When it came to doing things “the old fashioned way,” he was almost as awkward as a pubescent boy.
Somehow, though, he didn’t think he was comfortable admitting that to her.
For a while longer they talked, Liliana telling Jace a few sparse details of her life. He couldn’t help but sympathize, as she spoke of having to leave her home, lest the fears of those she’d once called friends cause her harm.
“Still,” she told him softly, “I think maybe I’ve had it a little easier than you.”
“Oh?” He glanced over, puzzled, his grin fading. “Why would you say that?”
“Because I can’t do what you can. I’m accustomed to assuming that people won’t trust me, or would be frightened of me, once they learn the sort of magic I wield. But you—you have the power to know they are. You can see their mistrust and their fear, or you can lessen yourself to be sure that you don’t. I can’t think of anything lonelier.”
It was all nonsense, Jace was certain. He’d never felt that way. Never! But he couldn’t seem to bury the doubt that began to cloud his thoughts.
Before he could decide what to say, he heard a familiar voice at the door of Eshton’s Tavern, greeting a few of the gathered customers. Jace rose and saw Kallist glancing around as though looking for someone—and that someone, to judge by his eager expression, was not Jace.
“At least,” Jace said, his own voice suddenly angry, “not everyone has to be as lonely as I apparently am.” And with that he was gone, before Liliana could open her mouth to reply.
When he returned, after many hours of stomping around the city like an angry giant, he was greeted by a wall of sound: music and laughter, drinking and dancing. The celebration of Whatever the Hell Lurias Had to Celebrate was in full swing, and he gave serious thought to coming back some other time. The last thing he wanted to deal with was a cheerful crowd.
Then he thought about trying to sleep, sighed, and stepped through the door.
The music that had been merely loud outside was a physical presence within, nearly potent enough to leap bodily on the newcomer and demand his coin purse. The stage was full to bursting, and many of the booths had been dragged aside to provide a larger dance floor. Several dozen customers whirled about in a flesh-and-fabric tornado, accompanied by a pair of minstrels in the corner who struggled to keep up.
Elbowing and glaring his way through, Jace stopped at the very edge of the dance and waited until the rhythm brought Liliana to him. He was strangely relieved to discover that she wasn’t dancing with anyone in particular.
Their eyes met, and that relief was badly shaken at the ice in her expression. She stepped just far enough outside the ring of celebrants that she wouldn’t block their path and glared at him.
“Yes?” she asked, her voice carrying over the music.
“Liliana, I wanted …” He trailed off, wondering where Kallist had gone.
“You wanted?” she prodded coldly.
“I wanted to apologize!” he shouted, loudly enough that several nearby customers glanced at him, drew their own conclusions, and snickered. “I shouldn’t have …” he trailed off and shrugged.
“Shouldn’t have been a rude bastard to someone who was trying to be kind to you?” she demanded.
“Uh, yes,” Jace said, deflating.
“All right. Apology accepted.” Jace saw a brief flash of a grin, a slender arm darting out like a snake, and then he was in the midst of the dancers before he knew what happened.
The next few moments were a blur; Jace had no time to think, let alone to speak, as he struggled with everything he had to keep up. Finally, when he felt that it was a race to see whether his feet would fall off before the sweat washed the nose and lips from his face, Liliana finally guided him away from the throng and into a booth that was miraculously empty of other customers.
“You know, you’re a halfway decent dancer.”
“I’m a lousy dancer,” Jace said panting, tapping a finger to the side of his head. “But that fellow over there, in the black and green? He’s an excellent dancer.”
Liliana’s jaw dropped, and then she laughed. “Why, ‘Darrim,’ are you trying to impress me?”
“Only if it’s working.” Then, “Liliana, I really am sorry.”
“I know,” she told him.
Jace grinned weakly. “Will you still believe me when I ask again where Kallist is?”
She frowned, then shrugged. “Kallist left—politely!” she added, poking Jace in the stomach with a finger, “when I made it clear that he’d misinterpreted the nature of our burgeoning relationship.”
“Oh?” Jace felt his chest pounding faster than it had during the dance. “And, um … What about our ‘burgeoning relationship’?”
Liliana smiled coyly and ordered another drink. “I don’t know. Do we have one?”
“Look, I … I know that I showed the manners of a troll with piles earlier. I wanted to make it up to you. I, um, I got you something.”
She managed to keep the smile on her face, though inside she groaned. “And what would that be? A bouquet of flowers? A nice piece of jewelry you can’t afford?
Maybe a doll?”
And then she cocked her head in puzzlement as Jace handed over a thick envelope, sealed with a dollop of melted wax. She slid a finger beneath the flap, ready to break it open, but a soft touch on her hand stopped her.
“Don’t open it unless you need it,” Jace told her. “I don’t understand. What is it?”
He smiled, almost shyly. “Secrets,” he told her. “The personal secrets of half a dozen merchants, bankers, and aristocrats living in Dravhoc District.” His smile grew wider at the stunned look that flitted across her face. “I’m not doing that anymore,” he said. “But this? This is all old business, for me anyway, so it doesn’t count. I wouldn’t recommend staying long in Dravhoc at any given time; the Consortium’s got sharp eyes there. But I’d imagine you can drop in long enough to collect a few payments.
“If, you know, you’re ever desperate enough where the only other choice is waiting tables in a tavern.”
Liliana leaned in and brushed her lips across Jace’s own, enjoying the sudden startled look before he responded in kind.
The sun was already slumbering beneath the western horizon when they arrived at the entrance to Jace’s flat. He felt light enough that he hadn’t even noticed the stairs, and it was with some reluctance that he pushed open the door.
“I guess,” he said, taking both her hands in his, “this is where we say good night.”
Liliana kissed him once and then turned them about, so that it was she who stood in the doorway, he in the hall.
“This,” she said with a smile, “is where we say good morning.”
Jace followed her inside and shut the door.
“I’m leaving, Jace.”
He looked up from where he sat on the ragged sofa, a plate of mushrooms and pork sausages on his lap, to see Kallist standing in the doorway. Slowly, uncertainly, Jace placed his breakfast to one side and stood. He’d avoided his friend for several days, now, uncertain what to say. But he certainly hadn’t expected those to be the first words they exchanged.
“Kallist,” he began slowly, “I don’t—”
“It’s better for all three of us,” Kallist interrupted bitterly.
Jace nodded slowly. “What are you going to do?”
“Get my own flat.” Kallist shrugged. “My new position pays more than enough. Maybe not as well as blackmailing the rich and famous, but I’ll get by.”
“You know I don’t do that anymore,” Jace insisted.
“No, not until you need to. Or until someone prettier than me asks nicely.”
Jace didn’t even ask how he knew. “That’s different. It’s not new information, and it’s only in the case of—”
“You’re a hypocrite, Jace. It�
��s fine. My own fault, really. I should’ve known better than to take you at your word, when it came to getting something you wanted—the one thing I might’ve found to make this damned place a little better!”
“She was never yours!” Jace shot to his feet, fists clenched. “Never!”
“Because you wouldn’t give us the chance!” Kallist shot back. “It’s not enough that you took away everything I had?”
“Took away … Damn it, Kallist, I saved your life!”
“You call this a life?”
His jaw opened, to argue, to berate his friend for such an arrogant, narrow view of Lurias, of existence beyond the Infinite Consortium—and then Jace could only think of his own reactions, his own conversations with Liliana about this community in which they found themselves, and the words wouldn’t come. He felt his face flush, though he wasn’t entirely certain of what he was ashamed.
Perhaps misinterpreting Jace’s sudden reticence, Kallist’s own expression softened. “Look, Jace, this isn’t how I wanted this to go. I know you meant well. Whatever else might’ve happened, I owe you thanks for that, and I’ve never said it.” It was magnanimous, maybe more so than he really meant, or than Jace really deserved. But then, he was the one leaving, the one with a future, so he could afford to be.
The mage looked up once more, his eyes bright. “You’re welcome, Kallist. And … I’m sorry it didn’t turn out like I’d hoped.”
Kallist nodded and was gone from the flat without another word, leaving Jace to stare at the blank and featureless door.
It took a few more weeks—weeks in which she was never far from Jace’s side, weeks that she had to admit were far more pleasant than any she could recall—but everything was finally ready.
She had him fully wrapped around her finger. She knew she could sway him, push him to react exactly as she needed him to react. She knew he trusted her, loved her. It was what she’d been waiting for, working for, and now it was time.
