War of the Spark: Forsaken E-Book

Greg Weisman

• Herausgeber: Titan Books
• Kategorie: Fantasy und Science-Fiction
• Serie: Magic: The Gathering
• Sprache: Englisch

Seitenzahl: 464

Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2019

Beschreibung

Brand-new Magic: The Gathering official novel which ties in to the brand-new card game set. THE HUNT FOR LILIANA VESS IS ON IN THE AFTERMATH OF THE WAR OF THE SPARK. The Planeswalkers have defeated Nicol Bolas and saved the Multiverse—though at grave cost. The living have been left to pick up the pieces and mourn the dead. But one loss is almost too great to bear: Gideon Jura, champion of justice and shield of the Gatewatch, is gone. As his former comrades Jace and Chandra struggle to rebuild from this tragedy, their future, like the future of the Gatewatch, remains uncertain. As the Gatewatch's newest member, Kaya aims to help write that future. In joining, she pledged an oath to protect the living and the dead, but now that oath will be tested. The grieving guild masters of Ravnica have tasked her with a grave mission suited to her talents as a hunter and assassin—a mission she is ordered to keep secret from the Gatewatch. She must track down and exact retribution on the traitor Liliana Vess. But Liliana Vess has no interest in being found. Forsaken by her friends, she fled Ravnica after the defeat of Bolas. She was hostage to his wicked will, forced to assist in his terrible atrocities on pain of death—until Gideon, the last one who believed in her goodness, died in her place. Haunted by Gideon's final gift, and hunted by former allies, Liliana now returns to a place she'd thought she'd never see again, the only place she has left: home.

Leseprobe

Contents

Cover

Title Page

Copyright

Dedication

Dramatis Personae

Guilds of Ravnica

Epilogue

One: Kaya

Part One: Survivors

Two: Liliana Vess

Three: Teyo Verada

Four: Jace Beleren

Five: Liliana Vess

Six: Rat

Seven: Tezzeret

Eight: Ral Zarek

Nine: Rat

Ten: Vraska

Eleven: Dovin Baan

Twelve: Rat

Thirteen: Chandra Nalaar

Fourteen: Teyo Verada

Fifteen: Jace Beleren

Sixteen: Teysa Karlov

Seventeen: Teyo Verada

Eighteen: Chandra Nalaar

Nineteen: Liliana Vess

Twenty: Kaya

Twenty-One: Teyo Verada

Twenty-Two: Tomik Vrona

Twenty-Three: Vraska

Twenty-Four: Rat

Twenty-Five: Jace Beleren

Twenty-Six: Liliana Vess

Part Two: Hunters

Twenty-Seven: Rat

Twenty-Eight: Liliana Vess

Twenty-Nine: Ral Zarek

Thirty: Vraska

Thirty-One: Dovin Baan

Thirty-Two: Teysa Karlov

Thirty-Three: Chandra Nalaar

Thirty-Four: Kaya

Thirty-Five: Jace Beleren

Thirty-Six: Vraska

Thirty-Seven: Teyo Verada

Thirty-Eight: Ral Zarek

Thirty-Nine: Tomik Vrona

Forty: Rat

Forty-One: Vraska

Forty-Two: Chandra Nalaar

Forty-Three: Tezzeret

Forty-Four: Kaya

Part Three: Killers

Forty-Five: Teysa Karlov

Forty-Six: Vraska

Forty-Seven: Ral Zarek

Forty-Eight: Teyo Verada

Forty-Nine: Jace Beleren

Fifty: Rat

Fifty-One: Liliana Vess

Fifty-Two: Dovin Baan

Fifty-Three: Kaya

Fifty-Four: Ral Zarek

Fifty-Five: Liliana Vess

Fifty-Six: Teysa Karlov

Fifty-Seven: Rat

Fifty-Eight: Ral Zarek

Fifty-Nine: Teyo Verada

Sixty: Tomik Vrona

Sixty-One: Liliana Vess

Sixty-Two: Kaya

Sixty-Three: Chandra Nalaar

Sixty-Four: Rat

Sixty-Five: Jace Beleren

Sixty-Six: Ana Iora

Sixty-Seven: Teyo Verada

Sixty-Eight: Atkos Tarr

Sixty-Nine: Tomik Vrona

Seventy: Vraska

Seventy-One: Dovin Baan

Seventy-Two: Ral Zarek

Seventy-Three: Chandra Nalaar

Seventy-Four: Jace Beleren

Seventy-Five: Vraska

Seventy-Six: Rat

Seventy-Seven: Blaise

Seventy-Eight: Ral Zarek

Seventy-Nine: Tezzeret

Eighty: Ana Iora

Eighty-One: Jace Beleren

Prologue

Eighty-Two: Kaya

Acknowledgments

About the Author

Bibliography

War of the Spark: Forsaken

Print edition ISBN: 9781789092738

E-book edition ISBN: 9781789092745

Published by Titan Books

A division of Titan Publishing Group Ltd

144 Southwark Street, London SE1 0UP

First Titan edition: November 2019

10 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 1

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental. The publisher does not have any control over and does not assume any responsibility for author or third-party websites or their content.

Copyright © 2019 by Wizards of the Coast LLC. All rights reserved.

WIZARDS OF THE COAST, MAGIC: THE GATHERING, MAGIC, their respective logos, War of the Spark, the planeswalker symbol, all guild names and symbols, and characters’ names are property of Wizards of the Coast LLC in the USA and other countries. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form or by any means without the prior written permission of the publisher, nor be otherwise circulated in any form of binding or cover other than that in which it is published and without a similar condition being imposed on the subsequent purchaser.

www.titanbooks.com

To the foremost professors of my undergraduate career: AlbertGuerard, John L’Heureux, Thomas Moser, Nancy HuddlestonPacker, Ron Rebholz and Juan Valenzuela. Thank you foropening up new planes for me to walk upon . . .

DRAMATIS PERSONAE

Dovin Baan—Planeswalker, vedalken from Kaladesh, former Minister of Inspections of the Consulate of Kaladesh, former Azorius Senate guildmaster, artificer, systems mage.

Jace Beleren—Planeswalker, human from Vryn, Gatewatch member, former Living Guildpact of Ravnica, mind-mage.

Blaise—Human of Ravnica, Orzhov Syndicate servitor, majordomo to the guildmaster.

Ana Iora—Human of Fiora, peasant.

Teysa Karlov—Human of Ravnica, Orzhov Syndicate hierarch, former Grand Envoy and advokist, Matriarch of Karlov line, lawmage.

Kaya—Planeswalker, human from Tolvada, Orzhov Syndicate guildmaster, Gatewatch member, ghost-assassin.

Chandra Nalaar—Planeswalker, human from Kaladesh, Gatewatch member, former abbot of Keral Keep on Regatha, pyromancer.

Rat—Human of Ravnica, Gateless thief.

Atkos Tarr—Vampire of Ravnica, House Dimir assassin.

Tezzeret—Planeswalker, human from Alara, artificer.

Teyo Verada—Planeswalker, human from Gobakhan, Shieldmage Acolyte.

Liliana Vess—Planeswalker, human from Dominaria, former Gatewatch member, necromancer.

Vraska—Planeswalker, Gorgon from Ravnica, Golgari Swarm guildmaster and queen, former pirate captain and assassin.

Tomik Vrona—Human of Ravnica, Orzhov Syndicate syndic, aide-de-camp to Orzhov guildmaster, lawmage, security mage and advokist.

Ral Zarek—Planeswalker, human from Ravnica, Izzet League guildmaster, Storm Mage.

GUILDS OF RAVNICA

Azorius Senate

Dedicated to bringing order to the chaos of Ravnican streets, the Azorius Senate strives to educate the compliant—and restrain the rebellious.

Boros Legion

The zealous Boros Legion is united in pursuit of a peaceful and harmonious Ravnica, no matter how many bodies its forces must step over to achieve it.

House Dimir

The agents of House Dimir dwell in the darkest corners of the city, selling their secrets to those who hunger for power, and their steel to those who need enemies silenced.

Golgari Swarm

All that lives must die, and death brings new life. The Golgari Swarm are guardians of this cycle, feeding the citizens of Ravnica and preparing them to feed the earth in turn.

Gruul Clans

Once, the Gruul Clans ruled over the untamed wilds of Ravnica, but as the city has grown they’ve been forced into exile to escape its crushing weight. They’re ready to crush back.

Izzet League

With their endless public works, the geniuses of the Izzet League maintain the sprawling splendor of Ravnica . . . when their experiments aren’t accidentally blowing it up.

Orzhov Syndicate

The Orzhov Syndicate is ruthlessly ambitious and endlessly acquisitive. Still, the Orzhov offers succor to the soul and the purse, collecting from both with interest, even after death.

Cult of Rakdos

Entertainers and hedonists, the Cultists of the demonic lord Rakdos know life is short and full of pain. The only thing that matters? Having as much fun as you possibly can, no matter the consequences.

Selesnya Conclave

The Selesnya Conclave is the voice of Mat’Selesnya, the mysterious manifestation of nature itself. Guardians of Ravnica’s threatened environment, they will stop at nothing to defend it.

Simic Combine

Nowhere is the balance of nature and civilization more important—or more at risk—than in a city that spans a world. The Simic Combine stands ready to maintain Ravnica . . . or revise it to the guild’s own unique specifications.

EPILOGUE

ONE

KAYA

Numb.

She felt numb.

Maybe that was necessary right now, as she helped Arlinn Kord carry off the desiccated corpse of a man she barely knew, a Planeswalker named Dack Fayden, who’d sacrificed his Spark and his life to save Ravnica—to save the very Multiverse—from the dragon Nicol Bolas.

Now Bolas was dead, too. Like Fayden, he had ultimately lost his Spark to the Eternals he himself had created, and Kaya and all of Ravnica had watched him dissolve, disintegrate into ashes that blew away on the wind.

It had been a stupendous victory—and a costly one. Kaya was certain she should feel it more, both the exaltation of triumph and the pain of the losses that earned it.

Instead—as she and Arlinn lowered Dack’s body onto an empty wooden board between the cadavers of Domri Rade and a viashino named Jahdeera—what passed for her emotions seemed, what—

Shrouded? Is that it?

Or was the metaphor simply suggested by the thin white sheet of spidery silk that the Golgari priestess, Matka Izoni, was rapidly weaving over all three corpses?

Kaya barely knew any of them. Rade had been an idiot and a turncoat. Jahdeera had followed him blindly. But Dack had been an actual hero, part of the team that shut down the Planar Bridge, stopping the flow of Eternals pouring into Ravnica from Amonkhet. From there he could have planeswalked anywhere. Instead, he chose to return and fight the good fight. To fight—and then to die for having made that choice.

If I can’t feel anything for him . . . then who exactly is wearing that silken shroud?

Kord turned around to fetch another corpse, but Kaya decided she’d had enough of that grim work.

All around her, a joyous victory celebration had erupted—punctuated by mourners crying over their very personal losses. Each extreme created contrast for the other. The elven girl climbing over the wreckage of Bolas’ fallen statue, and the human boy swinging from the branch of the fallen world-tree Vitu-Ghazi, seemed all the more carefree when set against the goblin mother and child desperately mourning over what remained of their husband and father, whose lower half had been crushed beneath the foot of the God-Eternal Bontu.

The sinking sun passed between two buildings and a sudden ray of light caused Kaya to squint, caused her eyes to water. It was the closest thing to tears she had managed since this whole thing had begun.

Maybe the real tears will come later. Catch me unawares and lay me out.

She found herself hoping so. She didn’t like feeling dead inside. She’d had enough of death for one lifetime—which was more than a little ironic, considering her profession. Kaya was—or had been, until very recently—a ghost-assassin. Her magic allowed her to send spirits to a final rest. Death was quite literally her business. But until today, she’d never felt quite so dead herself.

Dead and dead tired. With the battle over and the adrenaline rush receding, Kaya, the reluctant Orzhov Syndicate guildmaster, could once again feel the full force of the thousands upon thousands of Orzhov debtor contracts that weighed down her soul.

Ah, it’s tempting, so tempting, to simply declare all those debts forgiven.

But she knew such an act would destroy the Orzhov, and she feared that if even one guild fell, the delicate balancing act that was Ravnica would topple with it. The world-city literally (and magically) depended on its ten guilds operating, if not in harmony, then at least in balanced opposition to one another. And Kaya had not worked so hard to save Ravnica only to be the cause of its downfall by a different means. So the debts would not be forgiven, and for now, at least, she would continue to carry their weight.

She wanted, needed, to see a friendly face. By this time she had many close friends on Ravnica. Ral and Tomik. Hekara. Lavinia. Even Vraska. And yet the two people she felt closest to, most wanted to see, were two teenagers she had only just met this very morning: Teyo and Rat.

My entourage.

She smiled.

There! That’s an emotion. Not much of one, I’ll grant you. But it’s something. Chase that!

She started moving through the crowd with a purpose, trying to find the young shieldmage and the even younger thief. Not that Kaya was all that old. She wasn’t even thirty years old, herself. But relative to those two, she felt like one of the Ancients of Keru.

Why was she so attached to them? How had it happened so quickly? All right, sure, each had saved her life today—multiple times. But during this “War of the Spark,” as folks had already dubbed it, her life had been saved by two or three dozen different individuals, and she herself had saved easily three times that number (whatever that number might be). No, it was more than that, she felt sure.

It’s their purity. What they have is what I’m missing.

Teyo was so naïve. But there was a hidden strength beneath that naïveté. A strength he had only barely discovered—and still didn’t truly believe he had.

And Rat? Araithia “Rat” Shokta’s life had been . . . impossible. Truly. Impossible. It was a miracle she had survived it. Yet the true miracle was that she hadn’t simply survived it, she had embraced it and had maintained an optimism that was even more impossible.

They were two pure souls. Relative to them, Kaya felt a bit like a vampire, a creature of darkness desperate to feed off their bright light. That thought scared her a bit, and she literally stopped in her tracks. But she took a deep breath.

It’s a metaphor, Kaya. You’re not actually taking anything from either of them. In fact, there are gifts you can give them. Things that might make them happy. Or at least make their lives a bit easier. Before you say goodbye.

Buoyed by that, she started forward again and soon spotted them together. Well, of course they were together. The sixteen-year-old Rat had adopted the nineteen-year-old Teyo the moment he had arrived on Ravnica.

As she approached the two kids, Teyo spotted her and said to Rat, “Don’t forget, you still have the two of us.”

Kaya immediately knew what they’d been discussing, as Rat nodded sadly and said, “Except you’re both Planeswalkers. You’ll leave Ravnica eventually.”

Kaya wasn’t sure she could leave Ravnica. She’d been told that all those Orzhov contracts had bound her to the plane. But if she did . . .

She said nothing for now. Still weighing her options, she linked arms with them both and walked on.

With her entourage quite literally in tow, she joined a group of Planeswalkers and Ravnicans, most of them friends of hers (or at least comrades in arms), just to be around people. They were debating something. She couldn’t focus on what, and honestly didn’t much care.

The angel Aurelia approached. She was carrying something with an almost devout air that brought Kaya back into the moment. At first she couldn’t tell what the thing was. Then she saw it was a man’s breastplate, charred and blackened. She didn’t immediately grasp its significance. Each of the ten guilds had so many rituals and traditions. (She barely understood all the Orzhov’s traditions, and she was theoretically their leader.) Maybe Aurelia’s Boros Legion worshipped this holy piece of armor and trotted it out after every victory.

Then Chandra Nalaar said, “We should bury that on Theros. I think Gids’d like that.” And Kaya knew. This breastplate was all that remained of Gideon Jura, a Planeswalker who had given his life to save Ravnica and the Multiverse. If anyone had been a hero of this War of the Spark, it had been Gideon.

Ajani Goldmane, the leonin Planeswalker, responded to Chandra: “What he’d like is to know it’s not over.”

“It’s not over?” Teyo asked, horrified.

Ajani chuckled and placed a reassuring paw on Teyo’s shoulder. “I do believe the threat of Nicol Bolas has passed. But we cannot pretend Bolas will be the last threat to face the Multiverse. If we truly wish to honor our friend Gideon, we need to confirm that the next time a threat rises, the Gatewatch will be there.”

The Gatewatch.

She’d never heard of it before today. And yet it seemed that this group, this team of half a dozen or so Planeswalkers, had been protecting the Multiverse for months, from Bolas and multiple other threats, as well. They had led the charge today, and they had suffered for it. They had known what was coming, and they had come to face it anyway. And if they hadn’t come, there was no way anyone on Ravnica would have survived. Of that, Kaya was quite sure.

Goldmane, another member of the Gatewatch, was saying, “We just need to renew our Oaths.”

Jace Beleren, the Gatewatch’s de facto leader (less “de facto” now, with Gideon dead), replied, “Ajani, we all renewed them earlier today. Don’t you think once a day is plenty?”

Ajani scowled. His grip on Teyo’s shoulder involuntarily tightened, causing the kid to wince slightly. Kaya reached over and delicately removed the paw. Teyo breathed a small sigh of relief, and Rat giggled.

“Perhaps . . . perhaps I could take the Oath.”

Who said that?

Everyone had turned to look at Kaya.

Holy Ancients, I think it was me!

Chandra looked at her hopefully and said, “Really?”

Ral looked at her dubiously and said, “Really?”

Kaya looked inward and asked herself, Really?

Well . . . yeah.

She felt it. She felt something. A desire to be a part of something larger than herself. To prove to herself she wasn’t just a thief and an assassin. Or even just a woefully unprepared guildmaster. She could be someone that the Multiverse called on when there was trouble. She could be . . . Gatewatch. She liked that feeling and decided to run with it.

Uh, assuming they’ll have me . . .

“I’m not a perfect person . . .”

“Trust me, none of us are,” Jace interjected.

Vraska snorted.

Kaya ignored them both. “I’ve been an assassin and a thief. I’ve had my own moral code, but the first tenet of it was always, ‘Watch your own ass.’ I have the ability to ghost my way through life, to allow nothing to touch me. That’s the literal truth of my powers, but it somehow became my emotional truth, as well. But my time on Ravnica as assassin, thief, reluctant guildmaster and perhaps even more reluctant warrior hasn’t left me unaffected. Fighting beside you people has been an honor. The scariest and yet the best thing I’ve ever done with my somewhat bizarre life. What the Gatewatch has done here today—” She glanced down at the armor in Aurelia’s hands. “—what you sacrificed here today . . . well . . . this’ll sound corny, but it has been truly inspirational. If you’ll have me, I’d like to be a part of this. I’d like you all to know that if there’s trouble, you can summon me, and I will stand beside you.”

“We’d like that,” Chandra said.

“Aye, girl,” said Ajani, grinning his leonin grin.

The remaining members of the Gatewatch—Jace, Teferi and Nissa Revane—all smiled and nodded their assent.

So Kaya took a deep breath and raised her right hand to take the Oath. Perhaps as a symbol of what she had to offer, she turned that hand spectral, so that it became transparent, flowing with a soft violet light. Then she thought about what she should say. She had heard the Gatewatch’s six members—Gideon included—give their own Oaths earlier that day, when victory over the dragon was far from assured. Each one had said something different, but there had been a consistent theme. She said, “I have crossed the Multiverse, helping the dead, um . . . move on, in service of the living. But what I’ve witnessed here on Ravnica these last few months—these last few hours—has changed everything I thought I knew. Never again. For the living and the dead, I will keep watch.”

There. That didn’t sound too bad.

Feeling kind of proud of herself, she turned and smiled at Teyo and Rat. Rat grinned back. But Teyo was distracted by the descent of a dragon—not Bolas, of course. It was Niv-Mizzet, the Firemind, newly resurrected as the Living Guildpact, the literal embodiment of the mystic treaty that bound Ravnica’s ten guilds together. He and Jace, the former Guildpact, exchanged a few words about the transfer of power.

But Kaya paid little attention. She was watching the elf Nissa Revane, who leaned her head over one of the many cracks in the plaza’s pavement. She closed her eyes and breathed deeply. From between the battle-broken cobbles, a seed sprouted and rapidly grew into a plant with large green leaves.

Nissa nodded to Chandra, who somehow instinctively knew what the elf wanted her to do. The pyromancer carefully plucked three of the bigger leaves from the plant.

Then everyone watched as the two women and Aurelia lovingly wrapped Gideon’s armor in the leaves.

Aurelia handed the armor to Chandra, who—flanked by Jace and Nissa—led a solemn procession toward the celebrating (and mourning) crowd. A forlorn Aurelia watched them go but did not follow—while most of the Planeswalkers did.

Kaya started to follow, but Ral touched her on the shoulder and gestured with his eyes for her to wait. Tomik did the same to Vraska, who nodded and called out to Jace that she would catch up to him.

With Teyo and Rat beside her, Kaya soon realized that she was standing amid a not-quite-impromptu convocation of representatives from all ten guilds, a realization immediately confirmed by the Firemind: “As the new Living Guildpact, I have consulted with representatives of every guild.”

Kaya couldn’t help noticing that she had not been consulted, though she was—more or less against her will—the current Orzhov guildmaster. She raised an eyebrow at her aide-de-camp Tomik, who nodded. She wondered if he had been consulted, or if Niv had gone directly to Tomik’s former boss Teysa Karlov, who had her own designs on the Syndicate.

Niv continued: “We have agreed that certain individuals, those who collaborated with Nicol Bolas, must be punished.”

Vraska, the gorgon Queen of the Golgari Swarm, bristled at that, her eyes brightening with magic: “I won’t be judged by the likes of you.”

Lavinia, acting head of the Azorius Senate, spoke sternly but without threat: “You have been judged. And your actions on this day have mitigated that judgment.”

Ral, the new Izzet League guildmaster, stepped up, employing a conciliatory tone that was fairly out of character for him. “You are not the only one Bolas misled and used. Kaya and I share that particular guilt. We may have realized our error sooner than you did, but we have no desire to quibble with an ally. Not with an ally willing to prove her allegiance to Ravnica and her own guild.”

Vraska looked no less suspicious—no less on guard—but her eyes ceased to glow. “I’m listening.”

Aurelia, the Boros Legion guildmaster, said, “Hundreds, maybe thousands of sentient beings died on Ravnica today. Such acts of terror must not go unpunished. There are three who did everything in their power to aid and abet the dragon: Tezzeret, Dovin Baan and Liliana Vess.”

Teyo said, “But didn’t Liliana—”

Vorel, the Simic Combine biomancer, interrupted him: “Vess changed sides too late. Only after being the direct cause of most of the carnage.”

“All three are Planeswalkers,” stated Lazav, guildmaster of House Dimir. “They are out of our reach. But not out of yours.”

Kaya didn’t like where this was heading: “What exactly are you asking?”

The Firemind brought the point home. “Ral Zarek has already agreed to hunt Tezzeret. Vraska, as penance for past sins, we assign you Dovin Baan. And Kaya, the ten guilds wish to hire you to assassinate Liliana Vess.”

PART ONE

SURVIVORS

TWO

LILIANA VESS

Liliana Vess stumbled through the swamp, the Caligo Morass, heading vaguely toward the ruins of her childhood home.

Because where else is there to go?

Night had fallen. The moon was low in the sky, providing little light. Little light shone inside her mind, either. Her thoughts were jumbled and jagged, a dark maze, truthfully a disaster area.

Like the ruins of Tenth District Plaza on Ravnica.

She remembered being on Ravnica. She remembered whispering, “Kill me now.” She remembered wiping her tears away, tears that in the moment she was grateful to have the capacity to shed. Then she remembered rejecting all those emotions as self-pity. And even now, she pushed them down—pushed down the most human part of herself—deep, deep down into her psyche.

Stay down. They’ll do you no good here.

No, she wouldn’t pretend she left Ravnica out of guilt or shame. She left because she was under threat.

That was it. Self-preservation, pure and simple.

The Gatewatch and the other so-called heroes of Ravnica were destroying Bolas’ Eternal army. And she had known those same heroes would soon come for her, as she was the most visible of Bolas’ minions—if also the most coerced.

They have no idea the hold Bolas had over me. They can’t pretend they would’ve acted differently.

Momentarily defiant, she kicked at a stone like an angry child. She missed and, losing her footing, hit her shoulder hard against a sagging tree. When she pushed off it, a small branch caught the hem of her dress and tore it.

There, are you happy? You ruined your dress. If you needed something to cry over, cry over that! But don’t you dare cry over . . .

No. She wouldn’t make excuses for herself. She didn’t have to be a human being, but whatever she was, she’d at least be honest with herself, about herself. She had made a choice: to kill others for Nicol Bolas in order to save her own life.

It was the smart choice. No one said it was the right one.

She struggled forward. Why had she come here? She distinctly remembered closing her eyes and planeswalking away from Ravnica. What she didn’t remember was making any conscious decision to come to Dominaria. For reasons she could not begin to explain, she had returned to the lands of the House of Vess, where she had been born and raised . . .

And where my life first went to the Nine Hells!

Bracing herself against a sagging tree that leaned out over the water, she suddenly realized she was holding Bolas’ dormant Spirit-Gem in one hand. She stared at it. It was a smooth egg-shaped stone, with a silken sheen. It was silver. No, gold. She couldn’t tell what color it was. It seemed to change as she turned it in her fist. And it was heavier than it looked. It had always floated or hovered between Bolas’ horns. For years, she had assumed it was simply a decorative element, no more, no less. But the dragon had used it to absorb the Sparks he had harvested from dying Planeswalkers.

The Sparks I harvested for him.

When the dragon disintegrated, why hadn’t the Gem disintegrated with him? How had she gotten it? She had absolutely no memory of picking the thing up back on Ravnica.

And why would I pick it up? As a souvenir of my wonderful times with Nicol Bolas?

She thought about throwing it deeper into the swamp . . . but didn’t even seem to have the energy for that.

Just drop the thing. Let it sink into the water.

She didn’t, of course. It had potential value, held potential power, and Liliana Vess did not throw power away. She collected it. Everyone knew that. Everyone believed that.

Except maybe Beefslab.

Gideon Jura hadn’t believed that. He had believed . . . in her. Or in any case, he had believed in her potential. In her potential to be more than the sum total of the self-serving, power-hungry reputation she had so actively curated, promoted and cultivated.

Of course, all that proves is that Gideon Jura is a fool. Was a fool.

His memory loomed large for Liliana now. He had said, “I can’t be the hero this time, Liliana, but you can.” He had said, “Make it count.” He had said those things while dying. While dying in order to save her life. She had always been so cynical about Gideon’s faith in her. What had she ever done to earn it?

What had he ever done to prove himself a good judge of character?

So yes, after he was gone, after he couldn’t possibly know what his death would count for—or cost her—she had tried to honor his sacrifice by taking Bolas down. By successfully taking Bolas down.

That’s right, I did it, Gideon. Not you. Me. Liliana Vess destroyed Nicol Bolas. Did you see me do it for you, Beefslab? Did you see?

Now all she could see was Gideon’s last horrible, beautiful smile. That and his ashes blowing away in the wind after taking her curse upon himself. She remembered the ashes, and she remembered that smile, but for the life of her she could not remember Gideon’s face, the face of a man she had come to think of as a brother.

It’s no different with Josu. Why can’t I remember their faces?

She kept moving through the slough, trying to place each foot more carefully on solid ground.

There is no solid ground. That bastard Gideon and that bigger bastard Bolas have stolen the very ground beneath my feet. Who am I now? Who is Liliana Vess?

She hated them. Both of them. Almost equally. Almost.

And what of Jace?

He had tried to kill her earlier in the day—tried to kill her when she was still serving Bolas and using his Eternals to kill Ravnicans, using his Eternals to harvest Planeswalker Sparks for the dragon. But when it was all over, Jace had reached out to her telepathically, reached out not with anger—but with concern. After all she had done, after she had allowed even Gideon to die in her place, she couldn’t face his sympathy. His fury, she could have dealt with, could have understood. But his sympathy nearly destroyed her right then and there.

He had no right to offer me that!

She shouted a question to the fen: “I’m making no sense at all, am I?” Even her voice sounded slightly off. Pinched. Or maybe just unreal. False. She wasn’t Liliana Vess now, at least not a Liliana Vess she recognized. She stopped and looked down at her reflection in the still water. “My hair’s a mess. When did I tear my dress? I actually look . . . dirty.” It wasn’t like her not to maintain her appearance. She tried to cast a spell to clean herself up. The magic didn’t work. She couldn’t focus enough to make it work. That wasn’t like her, either.

So maybe I’m not Liliana Vess. Maybe I’m just a forgery. Or a Jace Beleren illusion. The dirty, ugly, wicked witch he always imagined lurked under the surface of the woman he couldn’t bring himself to resist. That’s what I was to him—am to him—isn’t it? And what is Jace Beleren to me?

He was a man she used and manipulated, for sex, for power, and to win her freedom from the demons that had held her in thrall.

And that’s all he was, right? RIGHT?

No. Somewhere in that deeply buried humanity, she knew that was a lie. There was a part of her that truly loved him.

Assuming that’s something I know how to do.

Liliana laughed out loud at that. It was a cold, dead sound to her.

Was love ever one of my goals?

No, again. She had worked for decades to maintain her youth, to augment her power, to win her freedom. Love had never been on the agenda. The horrifically comic irony, of course, was that she now had everything she’d ever wanted—and the cost had proven too high for her to live with herself.

As if there’s some alternative?

And just then, she tripped again. Only this time, she fell into the deep water. She went down, submerging completely. She was sinking, drowning. And a part of her welcomed it.

There’s your alternative. Stay here. Beneath the water. Don’t fight it. Let yourself go.

She recognized the irony: She was half prepared to kill herself after working so desperately—and killing so many others—in order to preserve what she was now on the razor’s edge of relinquishing.

So maybe this is the end I deserve. In the swamp, within a day’s walk of my father’s home.

But if she was to die, she wasn’t going to do it facedown in the muck. Her dress was soaking up the water, weighing her down. With some effort, she managed to turn herself over. The moon must have risen some. She could see a bit of its light shining down through even this silt. She closed her eyes then. She was still holding her breath, but she knew she’d have to release it soon enough. She’d involuntarily exhale air and inhale fluid, allowing her lungs to fill. She’d lose all buoyancy and sink. Maybe in a few centuries, an archaeologist would find her bones and admire their perfect proportions, her perfect proportions. The archaeologist and her colleagues would then argue over their discovery’s age at death. But she would defy all scientific divination. She would remain a mystery for the ages. This appealed to her.

I could live with that, she thought and smiled.

She opened her eyes one last time for one last glimpse of moonlight. Then, for just a second, she thought she saw something or someone pass above her, watching her from the shore. A figure in white? Or perhaps . . . a figure surrounded by a white aura of invulnerability . . .

Gideon! It’s Gideon!

She fought, she swam, she struggled her way to the surface to see him, to find him, to have it out with him, once and for all. To make him tell her. Who. She. Was. Her dress dragged her down; she had no air. None of it mattered. Not if she could see Beefslab alive again. She surfaced, gasping for oxygen, fighting her way to shallower ground until she could stand and look around for him. And for one insane moment she thought maybe she spotted that white figure between the trees. Dirty water dripped down from her sopping matted hair into her eyes, and she blinked twice to clear them. “Gideon?” she whispered.

But, no. There’s no one there. Of course there’s no one there. And certainly not Gideon Jura. He’s dead. You know that. You saw him disintegrate away before your eyes. He died saving you. Saving you . . . for this.

Gideon’s Revenge. Well, he’d earned it. And she was up and on her feet. She might as well keep moving. So, drenched and miserable, she continued—for no good reason—on toward home, taking little notice of the gathering ravens . . .

THREE

TEYO VERADA

As the guild conference continued, a tense Teyo scanned twelve even tenser faces. By this time, he could identify every one of these leaders, down to each’s guilds and titles. It was funny. He had recently spent four days in Oasis, and he couldn’t remember the names of anyone he’d met there. But after less than a day on Ravnica, he’d learned an entire political geometry and could tick off most of the names of those it comprised.

The dozen world leaders—for, in fact, did they not collectively rule this world?—had clearly waited for the Gatewatch to move out of earshot (perhaps not having counted on Kaya actually swearing an oath to the Gatewatch just before the meeting commenced) in order to discuss a policy of assassination.

Teyo didn’t like it. He hadn’t encountered Baan or Tezzeret and had no reason to doubt they had cooperated with the dragon and deserved punishment. But he had seen no evidence of it, either. Even Abbot Barrez, who ran the monastery where Teyo was raised with a burlap fist, would not punish an acolyte without proof or a confession. Maybe the guilds had both, but then why such a need for secrecy? And what about Liliana Vess? Yes, she had controlled the Eternals for Bolas, and many had died as a result. But many more would have died if she hadn’t turned on Bolas, hadn’t destroyed him. At the very least, she should have the opportunity to explain, shouldn’t she?

But the leaders of Ravnica would prefer to send Kaya to kill her in secret?

It didn’t sit right. It didn’t. But he’d been put in his place by Vorel when he had attempted to raise the issue. So clearly, now wasn’t the time or place to cite his objections. It made a difference that he had Kaya’s ear. He could—he must—talk to her about this later.

Kaya, meanwhile, was pointing out a less philosophical problem: “It’s been hours since Vess left Ravnica, longer still for Baan, and longer than that for Tezzeret. Don’t you see the problem?”

Vraska said, “They’re not Planeswalkers. They don’t understand . . . the rules.”

“Enlighten us,” said Aurelia.

Ral said, “A Planeswalker can follow another Planeswalker in his or her immediate wake.”

“But the key word,” Vraska emphasized, “is ‘immediate.’”

Kaya nodded. “After this much time, there’s simply no way for the three of us to track our ‘targets’ down, assuming we even agree to the hunt.”

The Firemind eyed Ral. “What about Project Lightning Bug?”

Teyo had no idea what “Project Lightning Bug” was, and from the looks of nearly everyone else, he wasn’t alone in that. He exchanged glances with Rat, his usual source of information about this world, but she just shrugged.

Ral shook his head. “The project was keyed into the Beacon, which I effectively destroyed earlier today. Baan and Vess left after that. And even if we could still recover the data on Tezzeret, it would only tell us he went to Amonkhet. We know from Samut and Karn that he planeswalked away from there hours ago. He could be anywhere in the Multiverse by now.”

Niv-Mizzet scowled and said, “This is simply a problem requiring an innovative solution.”

That caused Boruvo to scowl. “Spoken like a true Izzet guildmage, not the Living Guildpact tasked with representing all our interests.”

The Firemind huffed out a cloud of smoke from his nostrils. “I never promised to acquire a new vocabulary to smooth ruffled plumage. When you feel Selesnya is not fairly and faithfully represented by my office, then you can complain.”

Without a doubt, this last statement did not “smooth ruffled plumage.” In fact, it launched a volley of objections from nearly all sides.

Teyo found he couldn’t follow it all. He suddenly felt exhausted. He’d been awake for two straight days—one on Gobakhan and one on Ravnica—days filled with more excitement, exertion and stress than any two years of his life. He yawned involuntarily and barely managed to raise a hand to cover his mouth.

Gan Shokta, already cross from yelling at the Firemind, barked out, “Are we boring you, boy?”

“No, sir, I—”

Rat stepped forward, “Where are your manners, Father? Teyo deserves better than that. You know he saved your life today. Twice.”

But Gan Shokta took no notice of his daughter, leaving it to Kaya to intercede. “We’re all exhausted.”

Niv-Mizzet concurred, with a glance toward the procession of Planeswalkers that were working their way back toward them now. “We will reconvene in the morning.”

He looked to Lavinia, who nodded and said, “Meet at the Azorius Senate House. One hour after dawn.”

There was a general—if somewhat begrudging—murmur of agreement.

The Firemind turned to the gorgon next. “Perhaps, Queen Vraska, you should avoid relating this discussion to my predecessor.”

Teyo had seen Vraska and Jace kiss earlier. Now the gorgon’s face revealed that she was conflicted about keeping things from a man she clearly cared so much about.

Ral Zarek seemed to notice that, too. “Perhaps,” he suggested, “you’d be better served staying away from Beleren this night—”

“How and with whom I spend my nights is no business of yours, Zarek.”

“Of course not. But you don’t want to give the mind-mage the opportunity to read your thoughts.”

“Jace wouldn’t do that. Not to me.” And as if to prove her point, she defiantly walked away, crossing broken pavement and passing multiple mourners and celebrants, to join Jace Beleren—and to take his hand.

This seemed to signal an end to the conference. As the quorum broke up, Kaya turned to Teyo and Rat, saying, “Why don’t you both come back to Orzhova with me. Just for the night. We can wash. Eat. Sleep.”

Teyo looked to Rat. He thought maybe she’d prefer to follow her father, who was stalking off without her. And if she decided to spend the night with the Shoktas, he thought maybe he should go with her.

But Rat said, “Sounds keen.”

And Kaya misinterpreted his hesitancy. She put a hand on his shoulder and said, “I know you must be eager to return to Gobakhan.”

“No hurry, really.” He found himself stifling another involuntary yawn.

“I get it. Too tired to think about planeswalking right now.”

“I don’t even know how to think about planeswalking. I’ve only ever done it the one time—and that was by accident.”

“No worries. I promise we’ll get you home in the morning.”

But Teyo was less concerned about getting home than he was about Rat. He was watching her when Kaya made her promise, and he could see Araithia’s violet eyes lower sadly and lose a little bit of their light . . .

FOUR

JACE BELEREN

They had walked the length of Tenth District Plaza and then walked back again. Chandra still carried the breastplate in her hands, and everywhere they went, Ravnicans of all shapes and sizes, guilds and genders bowed their heads to honor Gideon Jura. It was right to honor him—for what he did and for what he represented. It was Gideon who had held the Gatewatch together.

Without him . . .

Without him, Jace wasn’t sure if the Gatewatch even existed anymore.

We’ll always be loyal to each other—but to the Multiverse?

The cost just seemed too high.

How can it be I never noticed that Gideon was my best friend?

Vraska was a short distance away, conversing with Niv-Mizzet and other guild leaders. He didn’t envy her or Niv. He was glad his days as the Living Guildpact were through.

“Are we agreed?” Ajani said. “Tomorrow morning we go to Theros to honor our friend.”

Jace, Chandra, Nissa, Teferi, Karn, Saheeli, Jaya, Ajani and Huatli all nodded or murmured their assent. Jace wondered briefly why Huatli wanted to go. She’d only met Gideon that morning.

But who am I to tell her no? He deserves all the damn honors he can get. He deserves a lot more than that, but I suppose that’s all we have left to give him.

He glanced up to the top of the Citadel where Gideon had died. Died saving Liliana, so that Liliana could save the Multiverse.

With some reluctance, he said, “Listen. I’m . . . worried. About Liliana.”

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” Chandra snapped. “I still don’t understand why I shouldn’t be hunting her down to kill her for taking Gids away from us.”

Jaya Ballard’s look darkened. “Is that who you are, child? A killer?”

“I’m not a child. And I’ve killed plenty.”

“In cold blood?” Ajani asked.

“My blood’s not cold on this subject.”

Teferi rubbed his chin. “I’m still not clear on what happened. Did Liliana Vess take Gideon’s life?”

“No,” Jace said. “Not exactly. At least I don’t believe so.”

Karn’s voice rumbled out, “What do you believe?”

“We all saw Liliana turn on Bolas,” Jace began . . .

“A day too late,” Saheeli said. “Thousands died at her hands before that.”

“Yes,” Jace said, “But I can guess why. You all saw it. She was dissolving before our eyes. Turning on the dragon was literally killing her. Yet she was the only one who could possibly stop Bolas. I believe Gideon saw that, realized that.”

Nissa spoke quietly, more to herself than to the rest. “So he gifted his invulnerability to her . . .”

“And in exchange took on whatever curse was killing her.”

“She allowed that?” Chandra asked bitterly.

“Maybe. I don’t know. What I do know is that I reached out to her—telepathically—after it was all over. I could feel her pain, her conflict. Her lack of understanding of her own feelings.”

“You always had a soft spot for the woman, Jace,” Ajani growled.

“Really? You think so? Didn’t you all accuse me of being too hard on her?”

Chandra looked away. She had in fact made that charge against Jace many times. “Maybe you were right about her. Maybe we were wrong.”

“Maybe. But . . . Look, I don’t relish being her advocate. It’s not exactly a job I’ve trained for. I just think the situation with her may be more complicated than we know. Can’t we at least acknowledge that?”

Chandra whispered, “I once loved her like a sister, Jace. And she betrayed us all.”

They were all silent for a time. Jaya was still studying her protégée Chandra as she said, “What exactly do you propose, Jace?”

“I . . . honestly don’t know. Maybe . . . maybe we should try to track her down, at least hear her out. I think she’s . . . broken.”

Chandra looked up at Jace then. “She can join the club.”

Jaya took Chandra’s hand in hers and said, “We don’t have to decide anything now. There’s nothing to be done tonight. We don’t even know where she went. And we have something important to do in the morning.”

“Aye,” Ajani said. “We can decide what to do about Liliana Vess after the memorial.” He looked at Jace. “Agreed?”

“Of course.”

Huatli said, “Perhaps we all just need some rest. Some time to sort things out.”

Teferi said, “Not here.”

Chandra agreed. “No, not here. I’m sick to death of Ravnica. You’re all welcome to come stay with me on Kaladesh.”

“I have somewhere I need to go,” Karn stated.

Teferi said, “Somewhere that will still be there tomorrow. I think we could all benefit by staying in each other’s company for one night.”

Karn hesitated . . . then nodded.

“To Kaladesh then,” Ajani said. “Just for the night.”

Out of the corner of his eye, Jace saw Vraska break off from Niv and the rest, beelining straight toward him. “I’m going to stay,” he said. “Let’s meet right back here at dawn. And we’ll all planeswalk to Theros together.”

There were a few more nods, but no other words were spoken. Jace watched them all planeswalk away; Jaya and Chandra disappeared in brief conflagrations of flame; Karn vanished with a sharp metallic sound; Ajani gave off a golden light and was gone; Teferi seemed to transform into a blue whirlwind that swept him away. By the time Nissa, Saheeli and Huatli had departed, Vraska was with him, taking his hand.

She said, “As I recall, we had a date planned.”

“That’s right, Captain. Tin Street. Coffee. A bookstore.”

“You like memoirs, reading about interesting people.”

“I do. And you like histories, I think.”

“I do.”

They started walking.

For a time, they were silent, simply glad to be in each other’s company. He could tell she had something on her mind, something that troubled her. But she said nothing, and he chose not to pry—psychically or otherwise. He knew she had her secrets but was convinced that none of hers could possibly be as big—and truly awful—as the secret he himself was keeping. Keeping from her. From everyone.

Jace knew he needed to decide what kind of man he wanted to be. For years, he had been hampered—stunted—by huge gaps in his memories, which had made him secretive, difficult. Now that he had all his memories back, he wanted to be a better person and hoped he could be that better person with Vraska.

He remembered their kiss—their first kiss—after the battle.

He stopped suddenly and turned to face her with a questioning look. She seemed to understand and nodded her consent. So cradling her face in his hands, he kissed her again. She tasted so sweet. It was a kiss that eased the burdens on his soul. And he hoped, maybe, the burdens on hers, as well.

She smiled at him. He smiled back.

They started walking again. Neither spilling their secrets.

After a while, he asked, “Didn’t we just pass Tin Street?”

“We did,” she said.

“And yet we’re walking this way.”

“We are,” she said.

“So no coffee?”

“No.”

“We are headed to . . .”

“My quarters. If that’s all right with you.”

He could feel himself blushing.

She squeezed his hand in hers, and they walked on.

FIVE

LILIANA VESS

Was she trying to ignore them? The ravens. She knew exactly what this ever-gathering conspiracy of birds meant. She knew exactly whom they meant. But she was trying very hard to pretend otherwise, as she continued her increasingly pitiable trek across the Caligo. And the reason why was simple enough . . .

I don’t want to see him.

Clearly, he didn’t much care what she did or didn’t want.

He never had.

More and more ravens began to pursue her. They’d fly ahead, cluster unkindly upon a single tree, occupying every branch. And as she passed, the birds would depart en masse and descend upon the next tree, only by that time there’d be still more of them. And more at the next tree. And more at the next.

“You’re not exactly subtle,” she grumbled, knowing he could hear her even if she never spoke the words aloud.

It was almost getting ridiculous. In a flurry of black wings, the ravens launched themselves (himself) off one tree and descended upon another that could barely bear the weight of them all (him all). This got her to stop. And the reason why was simple enough . . .

I’d actually enjoy seeing that tree trunk snap in two, and watching all those damn birds (him) get as drenched and miserable as I am.

The tree bent dangerously. The birds cawed nervously, shifting on the branches with their clawed feet. Liliana Vess waited. Then she had an idea.

This could be fun.

She reached out a hand and reached out with her magic, pulling the life force from the sagging tree, from its thin trunk and too many branches. The tree died, but she kept going, hoping to make the wood brittle and corrupt.

It’s working . . .

It worked. The tree snapped, and the ravens were forced to scatter.

But it only took one.

A single raven descended, morphing into her second greatest nemesis: the Raven Man. He was just how she remembered him from her childhood. His precisely trimmed white hair and beard, his immaculate—if slightly dated—mode of dress. His shining golden eyes. “Still dapper, after all these years,” she said to him in a tone that belied the compliment.

He isn’t just how I remember him. He’s exactly how I remember him.

An illusion then. Or maybe he was a very precise shapeshifter. Either way, she knew that what she saw was no more real, no more him, than the birds had been. After all these years, she still didn’t know what he really looked like. Or who he truly was.

I probably don’t want to know.

He said, “I wish I could return the compliment. But you’ve never looked worse in my eyes.”

“I could use a good inn with the proper amenities. Can you recommend one in the neighborhood?” She was trying to sound like Liliana Vess.

But I’m not pulling it off.

He confirmed that for her with a sad shake of his head and an expression that clearly was meant to say, You sound as pathetic as you look. Instead, he said, “I’ve come to whet your almost blunted purpose. Why do you wallow in self-pity, here? You have all the power you ever dreamed of, and now you are free of your demons and the dragon!”

“But not free of you!” she screamed, suddenly shaking.

“No,” he confirmed. “But I am not your enemy. I have never been your enemy. All I’ve ever wanted is to guide you toward becoming the best, truest and most powerful version of yourself that you may be. I can still do that. I know where to send you next. There’s even a nice inn there. Where you can clean up. Feel more like yourself. All you have to do is listen.”

All I have to do is listen. Listen and obey.

Still, it was tempting. She had achieved all her goals—if in the worst possible way. The four demons that held the contract on her soul had been slain. The dragon that took over that contract had been reduced to dust. She was free. She was powerful. And although another quick glance at her reflection in the water revealed that, yes, she could definitely use a hot bath, she was still young and beautiful. Missions accomplished; goals achieved. The obvious drawback being that she had never, never, thought beyond those goals.

What do I do now?

The Raven Man was once again offering her purpose and direction. He tried to play it off as if he were a benevolent father figure, and she his beholden apprentice. Not like she was a loaded cannon, and he a man taking aim.

Whom would he make me hurt this time? That is, whom besides Liliana Vess?

She knew that in her current state, she was particularly vulnerable to his machinations and manipulations. She also knew that the Raven Man simply wanted to use her, like the demons had used her. Like Bolas had used her. But she knew that the Raven Man had the potential to be worse than her other enemies . . .

Because he was the bastard who started me down this damned path in the first place.

SIX

RAT

The plush robe currently folded in a neat square on her lap was the softest, most elegant item of clothing Araithia Shokta, the Rat, had ever been anywhere near. She couldn’t stop petting and stroking it, as if she half expected the thing to start purring.

Rat was sitting in a preposterously cushy armchair across from a decidedly relaxed Mistress Kaya, who had emerged from her shower, ensconced in a duplicate robe. She sat upon her long, folded legs in another armchair, and stretched languidly. Rat thought she was one of the most beautiful women she’d ever seen.

They were in a tower of Orzhova, the Cathedral Opulent, inside the salon of the Orzhov guildmaster’s suite of rooms, which were sumptuous to the point of decadence, to the point of Rat spontaneously giggling every couple minutes or so over having found herself amid such lavishness.

“Pretty sweet digs for a Rat,” she murmured.

“Hm?” Mistress Kaya murmured back, still languid.

“Thanks for letting me—us—stay the night.”

“Of course. You can stay as long as you like.”

Hearing that, Rat tried not to let her smile fade—for her friend’s sake.

Presently, a grinning Teyo emerged from the lavatory, coming down the hall toward them, wrapped in yet another robe, with a towel around his shoulders. His hair was soaking wet and dripping, and he carried a neatly folded pile of his battle-filthy clothes.

Pointing back at the room from where he’d emerged, Teyo gasped out: “That. Lavatory. Is. Amazing!”

“I’m glad you like it,” Mistress Kaya said with a smile.

“No, you have to understand. That . . . ‘shower’ is a thing of pure genius. We don’t have that on Gobakhan. Baths, yes. But showers? Do you know how much sand gets in your . . . in your . . . in your everything after a diamondstorm, or even just a small sandstorm, or even just a walk across a dune? Showers would change lives. And the, um, toilet. The big towns, like Oasis, have those, but they’re still so . . . so . . . I mean, this indoor plumbing is still the greatest magic I’ve ever encountered. Ever!”

His enthusiasm was kinda adorable.

An amused Mistress Kaya turned to Rat and said, “Your turn.”

Teyo said, “There are clean towels on the shelf for when you’re done. A whole pile of them. They’re very white and very large and very soft.”

“Best towels ever?” Rat teased.

“I know you’re making fun of me,” he said. “But yes. Best towels ever.”

She giggled again and walked past him down the long hallway to the lavatory.