Read Agents of Artifice: A Planeswalker Novel for Free Online Page B
Authors: Ari Marmell
miserable.”
“I have what I need. It’s not my fault you pack like a girl.”
“And I suppose that means you pack like a man, then?”
“I, my love,” she said, with a seductive twinkle in her eye and just a faint touch of her tongue on her lips, “do not do
anything
like a man.”
Kallist, still not emotionally steady enough to broach certain subjects, kept walking.
The both of them were clad in heavy cloaks, designed not only to keep the elements off but to hide the factthat their clothes were clearly of poor, peasant stock. Though the only routes out of Avaric took them through alleys, sewers, and under-streets that made even that poor district seem classy, they would soon enough be wending their way through neighborhoods of far greater affluence. They could acquire new outfits easily enough, but until then, it wouldn’t do to stand out as yokels.
Kallist had topped his outfit with a broad-brimmed hat, Liliana with a deep hood, and neither had done much in the way of keeping the pair dry. Their shoes were all but unsalvageable, the rain-soaked mud of Avaric having been replaced by the much purer garbage and excess sewage of Ravnica’s most foul under-streets.
A few more moments of silence, a few hundred more yards. The rains increased marginally, but enough to soak through what few spots of Kallist’s outfit were still dry, and he could only shake his head.
“This is not an auspicious start to our journey,” he muttered.
“Why, Kallist. You’re not superstitious, are you?”
The expression he turned on Liliana was utterly bland. “I’m accompanying a sorcerer who was born on another world, on our way to warn a third that he’s about to be assassinated, possibly at the behest of either an inter-planar criminal organization or a spirit-binding rat. As far as I’m concerned, what you call ‘superstition,’ I call ‘paying attention.’”
“Fair enough. You should try that, then.”
Kallist squinted, not entirely certain if he was imagining the insult there or not, but Liliana’s smile suggested that she hadn’t seriously meant it anyway. At least, he assumed that’s what it meant.
Another few moments of silence, save the persistent rain and the squelching of boots.
“Liliana,” he began hesitantly, “about our talk last night …”
“No.”
“Fine.” Kallist couldn’t keep the anger or a touch of petulance out of his voice. He began to pull ahead, but a soft hand on his shoulder stopped him.
He turned, and the wide eyes into which he gazed glimmered with more than the rain.
“Kallist,” Liliana said gently, “not now. After we’re done with this—when we’ve found Jace and we’re done with whatever we’re doing in Favarial—if things have changed, ask me then. But not now. There’s too much to deal with.”
He could only nod, unable to form anything resembling a coherent word, and resumed his pace.
Struggling to keep his voice steady, he asked, “Assuming we can find him, do you think Jace’ll be willing even to see us?”
“I doubt it,” Liliana told him seriously. “But I wasn’t planning on asking. You said it yourself, Kallist: He’s never forgiven either of us. We’re going to have to save him despite himself.
“And who knows?” she added, voice far more hopeful than it was certain. “Maybe saving his life one more time will help balance out the books where he’s concerned.”
Kallist smiled a grim, sad smile. “And when you’re through with that delusion, I’ve got a pristine castle with a mountain view on Dominaria that I can sell you, cheap.”
Again they walked in silence. As their footsteps drew them inexorably farther from Avaric, their surroundings grew ever filthier, ever more gloomy. At least the huts and shops in Avaric had no pretensions; these, however, stretched as high as those aspiring to the glory of other, far wealthier neighborhoods. Narrow windows and tall arched doorways provided ingress through walls of stone; but that
“I have what I need. It’s not my fault you pack like a girl.”
“And I suppose that means you pack like a man, then?”
“I, my love,” she said, with a seductive twinkle in her eye and just a faint touch of her tongue on her lips, “do not do
anything
like a man.”
Kallist, still not emotionally steady enough to broach certain subjects, kept walking.
The both of them were clad in heavy cloaks, designed not only to keep the elements off but to hide the factthat their clothes were clearly of poor, peasant stock. Though the only routes out of Avaric took them through alleys, sewers, and under-streets that made even that poor district seem classy, they would soon enough be wending their way through neighborhoods of far greater affluence. They could acquire new outfits easily enough, but until then, it wouldn’t do to stand out as yokels.
Kallist had topped his outfit with a broad-brimmed hat, Liliana with a deep hood, and neither had done much in the way of keeping the pair dry. Their shoes were all but unsalvageable, the rain-soaked mud of Avaric having been replaced by the much purer garbage and excess sewage of Ravnica’s most foul under-streets.
A few more moments of silence, a few hundred more yards. The rains increased marginally, but enough to soak through what few spots of Kallist’s outfit were still dry, and he could only shake his head.
“This is not an auspicious start to our journey,” he muttered.
“Why, Kallist. You’re not superstitious, are you?”
The expression he turned on Liliana was utterly bland. “I’m accompanying a sorcerer who was born on another world, on our way to warn a third that he’s about to be assassinated, possibly at the behest of either an inter-planar criminal organization or a spirit-binding rat. As far as I’m concerned, what you call ‘superstition,’ I call ‘paying attention.’”
“Fair enough. You should try that, then.”
Kallist squinted, not entirely certain if he was imagining the insult there or not, but Liliana’s smile suggested that she hadn’t seriously meant it anyway. At least, he assumed that’s what it meant.
Another few moments of silence, save the persistent rain and the squelching of boots.
“Liliana,” he began hesitantly, “about our talk last night …”
“No.”
“Fine.” Kallist couldn’t keep the anger or a touch of petulance out of his voice. He began to pull ahead, but a soft hand on his shoulder stopped him.
He turned, and the wide eyes into which he gazed glimmered with more than the rain.
“Kallist,” Liliana said gently, “not now. After we’re done with this—when we’ve found Jace and we’re done with whatever we’re doing in Favarial—if things have changed, ask me then. But not now. There’s too much to deal with.”
He could only nod, unable to form anything resembling a coherent word, and resumed his pace.
Struggling to keep his voice steady, he asked, “Assuming we can find him, do you think Jace’ll be willing even to see us?”
“I doubt it,” Liliana told him seriously. “But I wasn’t planning on asking. You said it yourself, Kallist: He’s never forgiven either of us. We’re going to have to save him despite himself.
“And who knows?” she added, voice far more hopeful than it was certain. “Maybe saving his life one more time will help balance out the books where he’s concerned.”
Kallist smiled a grim, sad smile. “And when you’re through with that delusion, I’ve got a pristine castle with a mountain view on Dominaria that I can sell you, cheap.”
Again they walked in silence. As their footsteps drew them inexorably farther from Avaric, their surroundings grew ever filthier, ever more gloomy. At least the huts and shops in Avaric had no pretensions; these, however, stretched as high as those aspiring to the glory of other, far wealthier neighborhoods. Narrow windows and tall arched doorways provided ingress through walls of stone; but that