by Ari Marmell
None could reach her now. She had sealed the door to the inner sanctum, a door of solid steel that would hold them at bay for many days. All she had to do now was wait.
With a grunt she jerked the projectile from her flesh, hissing in pain as it tore free. A few moments to tie a makeshift bandage around the wound, and then she was limping across the chamber, eyes skittering over her—well, her and Jace’s—new prize.
Wiping a handful of sweat-and-ash paste from her forehead, she examined the gleaming metal ring, the glowing gems and æther-filled tubes, the switches and runes, and of course the great throne that sat in its center. From here, the leader of the Consortium could rule an empire of worlds.
If he knew what those worlds were. If he knew who served him. If he knew how to answer the calls of his lieutenants, and how to construct the devices Tezzeret had given them.
But that was fine, because they would know. The plan would work; it had to. Any moment now, Jace would return with the information they needed—and already indebted to Nicol Bolas, to boot. She hoped he would be amenable to her needs, that they could rule the Consortium together in the dragon’s name.
And if not? Well, Liliana cared for Jace Beleren, but she had done ugly things to those she cared about before. She would, as always, do what she had to do.
For now, all she had to do was wait.
Completely invisible within his cloak of illusions, Jace lurked in the hallway behind the guards as they milled about outside the inner sanctum’s door, wondering what to do next, how to get at the necromancer within—and whether or not they even wanted to.
Liliana was alive, then. Jace couldn’t quite suppress a sigh of relief. She was alive, and she was waiting for him.
She would be waiting a long, long time.
Jace spun and strode down the stairs, slipping past the occasional guard, heading for the lower levels where he might find a few moments of complete privacy. He didn’t know if she would ever forgive him for this, anymore than he knew if he could ever forgive her. And ultimately, it didn’t matter.
The Consortium was gone. No prize for Liliana, no prize for Bolas, no prize even for Jace himself. Oh, some individual cells might survive, even thrive, but without Tezzeret, without the knowledge that Jace had chosen to let die with the artificer’s mind, the Consortium itself was dead.
And that was as it had to be. He wouldn’t live his life in fear, not anymore, and fear was all the Consortium had to offer him. Fear that Liliana cared only for it and never for him. Fear of what Bolas would do to him if he refused to bow to the dragon, and of what the dragon would make him do if he did.
But most of all, fear of himself. Jace’s soul had all but died, day by day, from the instant he joined the artificer’s foul cabal. Jace had allowed the Consortium to turn him into someone he didn’t know, but by all the power in the Multiverse, he would not allow it to turn him into another Tezzeret.
All he could do was walk away, and let the whole of it crumble into dust and ruin behind him. And if that meant he had no idea what to do with his life—if he found himself drifting, as aimless as the day Baltrice’s fire rained down from the sky above the open air café—then at least that life was his once more.
And then, as he stepped into the same supply room at the base of the tower where he’d briefly worn Baltrice’s face, he knew where to start. In the midst of all the looming questions, he realized abruptly what he had to do next. Because he knew, no matter whether he could ever forgive her, or she him, that he and Liliana would meet again; knew it as surely as he knew that a thousand suns wound rise tomorrow, across a thousand worlds.
When that happened, he would have her answer. He swore to himself that he would free Liliana from her bargain, no matter how long it took, no matter how many worlds he had to scour. He would learn who she was beneath the fear and the desperation and the lies.
And then, if he could love whom he found, perhaps they could begin again.
Jace Beleren stepped from the depths of Tezzeret’s tower and vanished into the farthest reaches of the Blind Eternities.
Now that she knew where he made his lair, they held their final meeting deep in the caves of Grixis, rather than on the featureless plains of that dead and nameless sphere. Here, separated by many long halls from the divination chambers of the coven, the screams of agony were almost inaudible. Almost.
Over half the walls in this great circular cavern were covered with faint images, not so much engraved as somehow burned into the stone. Some were dragons, some humanoids of various species, some of races unseen in any civilized corner of the Multiverse for thousands upon thousands of years. They stared out over the chamber, their eyes wide, their mouths agape in silent screams, and who they were none but the Forever Serpent could say.
In the center of it all stood a great stone column, wrapped from top to bottom in velvet-lined cushions. Coiled around it so that the bulk of his body was off the ground, Nicol Bolas studied, with unblinking eyes and a faintly bored scowl, the tiny human standing stiff and furious before him.
“… to discuss,” the dragon was saying, his attention already drifting on to other matters.
“Nothing more to discuss?” Liliana seethed, her voice rising. “Nothing more than my magic, and quite possibly my soul!”
The cushions rippled up and down the pillar as Bolas shrugged. “You chose to make the deal, Liliana Vess.”
“And you made one with me, Bolas!”
“Indeed. A very simple and straightforward one, on which you failed to deliver.”
“Tezzeret and the Consortium are out of your way!”
“True.” Bolas shifted around the pillar, perusing the images as though searching for one particular face. “But there was the matter, necromancer, of you returning the Consortium to me while I kept my focus on other matters. The plan, unless I rather woefully misunderstood, was to place someone in charge you could influence on my behalf, if not for you to rule it yourself. Unless I’ve grown extremely nearsighted in my old age, the final results of all your scheming don’t much seem to resemble the outcome you promised.”
“How could I possibly know that Jace wouldn’t—”
The dragon’s head whipped around the pillar, his tongue flickering out to stop mere inches from Liliana’s flesh. She froze, paralyzed beneath his infinite gaze.
“Do you really believe that making excuses now is your best option?”
“Great and mighty Bolas,” she said, trying hard to modulate her voice, “please. I came to you because you’re the only one I know with the power to break this pact, strong enough to bend even a cabal of demons to your will. If you could just—”
“If I am, indeed, the only one so gifted,” Bolas interrupted, “then I suggest you come up with some other way to make yourself useful. Offer me something else worth the trouble you bring me—and make no mistake, a quartet of demons is trouble even for ‘great and mighty’ me—and I will make you the same bargain.
“Alternatively,” he added, his tone suddenly thoughtful, “you might swear allegiance to me. A planeswalker and necromancer of your power might prove useful indeed, and I would, of course, seek to protect my investment …”
Liliana’s face went red, her eyes jet black. “You’d have me trade one master for another?”
“Why yes, I suppose I would.”
“Go find your own personal hell, dragon!”
“I’ve got a rather nice one here on Grixis, I should say. When you come up with a better trade, be certain to let me know. You’re always welcome here, my dear Vess.”
Liliana stared, mouth working as though to voice some new argument she’d not yet considered, and Bolas had at least to give the mage credit. In his youth, had he been in her position, he might well have attacked, even knowing he could not prevail. But with the realization that there was nothing left to say, Liliana turned on her heel and strode from the chamber, and if her shoulders were slumped and even shaking, still she held her head high until she vanis
hed from the dragon’s sight.
Bolas flickered his tongue over the stone faces, as though tasting the flesh of those they represented, then uncoiled himself from around the pillar and crept through the tunnels until he reached his workroom. It, like many of his private chambers, utterly lacked a door; he breathed a few syllables of magic, scarcely an effort to one such as he, and caused the wall itself to open for him. Between racks of alchemical equipment and half-built artifacts, through spaces where his great bulk should never have fit, the dragon wound his way to a marble worktable in the cavern’s center. Atop the great slab, dwarfed by the scale of the table and indeed the entire room, lay the object of his current endeavors.
No, Liliana’s efforts had not restored to him the Infinite Consortium. But they had given him instead an opportunity even he had not foreseen. He’d needed to act fast, before the nezumi could ruin it beyond use. It had cost him greatly to acquire it and would require much labor on his part to make it functional once more, both inside and out. With the right repairs, though—and the right adjustments—it just might prove a greater tool than even the Consortium itself.
Nicol Bolas bent low over the mangled and mindless body of Tezzeret. “Now, little artificer … What shall we do with you?”
ari marmell
Ari Marmell was born in New York, moved to Houston when he was one year old, then relocated to Austin when he was twenty-seven, but he has spent most of his life living in other worlds through a combination of writing and role-playing games. He is the author of multiple role-playing game supplements including work on DUNGEONS & DRAGONS®. Ari lives in Austin, Texas with his wife George, and their two cats.
Agents of Artifice
©2009 Wizards of the Coast LLC
All characters in this book are fictitious. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.
This book is protected under the copyright laws of the United States of America. Any reproduction or unauthorized use of the material or artwork contained herein is prohibited without the express written permission of Wizards of the Coast LLC.
Published by Wizards of the Coast LLC
Magic: the Gathering, Wizards of the Coast, and their respective logos, Planeswalker, are trademarks of Wizards of the Coast LLC in the U.S.A. and other countries.
The Library of Congress has catalogued the hardcover edition as follows:
Marmell, Ari.
Agents of artifice / Ari Marmell.
p. cm.
“Magic: the Gathering.”
“A Planeswalker Novel.”
eISBN: 978-0-7869-5576-3
I. Title.
PS3613.A7666A7 2009
813′.6–dc22
2008044672
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v3.0
Table of Contents
Cover
Title Page
Dedication
Prologue
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Chapter Twenty-Three
Chapter Twenty-Four
Chapter Twenty-Five
Chapter Twenty-Six
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Chapter Thirty
Chapter Thirty-One
Chapter Thirty-Two
Chapter Thirty-Three
Epilogue
About the Author
Copyright
