Heart of the Gemini

Bargains

Dawn was breaking as Sorin paced the edges of his private quarters. Normally he would have been preparing to sleep by now, having long ago adjusted to the nocturnal routines of the vampires. Instead his mind raced with thoughts of the Teysa’s arrival, trying to find some right answers, or indeed, he finally admitted, some right questions. He thought of the moon heron and imagined similar creatures sailing the skies of a thousand other worlds, searching for him. He saw the portal, the product of ten years of tireless efforts to deliver a human – worse, the Scion – safely across planes. Try as he might, he couldn’t push the sound of her voice from his head.
A God? He had expected some kind of response from them in the time immediately following the events with Eldranis, but it had been ten years. And for them to send Teysa herself, knowing she would likely never return…
Liliana had stormed from the audience chamber with the first light, declaring that she had to lead the morning’s hunt. In truth, with the disruption of the feast by the Orzhov envoy, there was more than enough food remaining. What was more, Liliana chose to travel by magic rather than on the back of a flying zha-kari, leaving the hunters with the difficult task of trying to keep up with her rather than focusing on their prey. It seemed to Sorin that something more than their unwanted guests was troubling her, but his own concerns were keeping him sufficiently occupied. Finally a voice called to him from outside the tent, freeing him from of the pits of his own mind.
“Come, Anowon,” he called back.
The old priest – old being a largely relative term in a camp occupied by vampires and immortal Planeswalkers – poked his head through the curtain.
“My Lord, I know you asked not to be disturbed…” he spoke the language of the Zendikar humans, but with a thick accent that centuries of living had not cured.
“Anowon, you stopped laughing at my Zenkaril years ago. Speak plainly.”
“I speak as human for the benefit of the Lady Teysa… she is here to see you.”
Sorin considered for a moment: solitude was getting him nowhere, and certainly no sleep. “Very well,” he said finally. “Show her in.”

Immediately he noticed something different about the Scion from when he’d first seen her beside Gideon. She was limping now, her right leg clearly troubling her greatly. Before either of them could speak he pulled the nearest chair towards her, only to be waved away.
“I’m fine, thank you,” she said curtly, and straightened. “I won’t be here long.”
“I’m surprised to see you away from your protector. This camp is dangerous, you understand that?” If she reacted to his comment in any way, it was hidden by the mask she always wore, the mask of no emotions that came with being Teysa Karlov.
“I am quite safe, Lord Markov, and it is of the utmost importance that I speak with you again.” There was an honest conviction in her tone that Sorin couldn’t quite understand. He tried to gather his thoughts in one place.
“I thought I made it quite clear: I have no intention of returning to Ravnica.”
“Yes, that was apparent. I believed I might do a better job of changing your mind without… interruptions.”
Despite himself, Sorin agreed that as long as Liliana and Gideon were both present, any further negotiations were meaningless. “Please, enlighten me.”
Teysa reached up her hand, still holding the ivory mask. Without it her raven black hair fell freely, framing her pale skin and fierce blue eyes. The mana she was collecting was stronger now, at least five times more powerful than what Sorin had felt in the audience chamber, maybe ten. For the first time he believed her when she said she was in no danger, even in a camp filled with vampires.
“You do not approve of this device,” she said casually, indicating to the mask. “I saw it on your face the moment we arrived.”1
“I just wouldn’t want to sp0end my life beneath a mask, that is all,” he replied. A trace of amusement crossed her lips.
“But you do, don’t you see? We all do, particularly those of us in power, those of us with… secrets.”

Sorin took two long strides forward until he was face-to-face with the Scion.
“No more lies!” he said, his voice rising quickly. “No more masks or riddles. What do you know of me?”
“Much, but nothing that I’ve seen fit to share with the rest of the Guild. Withholding information is tantamount to treason within the Syndicate, punishable by death. But I daresay that’s the least of my crimes in my lifetime, and I’m still alive.”
Sorin’s immortal heart beat heavily as he fought to keep his breath under control. “If they don’t know, then they can’t be planning to blackmail me into helping them.”
“Very good. The plan is for you to come willingly. Without you, our plan will start a war on Ravnica, one we can never win. Our intention is to make them recognise our claims to authority as we have always done – peacefully.” Sorin was sure he wouldn’t call 10,000 years of ruthless contracts and legal extortion ‘peaceful,’ but it was better than all-out conquest.
Teysa watched him for a moment without speaking, until finally she succumbed to a knowing smile. “Here, in this place, you hide who you truly are. Not just your White-mana powers, but your past as well. What I offer is the chance to free yourself of that life. In the eyes of the Orzhov you will be revered, free and encouraged at every turn to explore your new potential. The finest magi would serve your every need, helping you to understand and develop your powers in ways you cannot yet even imagine.”
He wanted to argue, but even Liliana had mistrusted his White magic in the beginning. The vampires wouldn’t eat anything kill by it, thereby limiting his ability to practice his new powers. Many believed the Spirit of Ajani – which they had seen him used in battle against the Eldrazi – would one day reappear to destroy them. Some had even gone so far as to suggest he leave the camp, to find a new home within the human cities.
Sorin was eyeing the Scion warily now. She was in her element with her fine speeches, and he pictured her at ease before a great crowd in the Azorius Senate. He found the image… disquieting.
“You’re asking me to take charge of the Guild of Deals?”
Teysa laughed loudly, shattering her stoic illusion and shocking Sorin. “No such thing, Lord Markov. The Obzedat have surpassed death itself for the sole purpose of maintaining their power. I can assure you they have no intention of giving up control of their guild to you.”
“Then why have you risked everything to take me back there?”
“Your spark ignited in the very heart of Orzhova!” She was shouting now, her intrinsic mask falling away piece by piece as emotion surged. “Did you imagine for one moment we would not notice? The effects were felt for miles across the city! The Azorius launched an enquiry into the matter lasting months, and the Boros prepared their armies for assault. Only the Selesnya Conclave stayed their forces, believing rightly that it marked the creation of life, not the beginning of a war. It was perhaps the only time I have found their constant faith tolerable.
“The Obzedat believed your creation was a sign, the sign. They believe that your rebirth means the time is right to start something they’ve been waiting for over ten thousand years to inact.”
Words seemed to have long deserted Sorin as allies. In desperation he merely waved her on as if to say ‘please.’
“The Festival of Balance! A great celebration in which the Guild Orzhov intends to prove its supremacy once and for all. We will show the world that the greatest pairing of magic comes from the union of the two most opposing forces: the manas of Black and White.”
Sorin thought of it – the power inside him was a powerful combination to be sure, but the most powerful? He let his doubt spread across his face.
“The facts speak for themselves,” Teysa answered. “The elemental guilds, the Izzet, the Simic: they are chaotic, as likely to blow themselves apart as to do anything useful! The dark guilds, the Rakdos, the Golgari: they would see our world burn or rot given half the chance!
“What about the White guilds? You said the Selesnya supported you?”
“White unfettered is a recipe for stagnation, nothing more. All they Selesnyans do is control and breed. The Boros angels seek to eliminate anything that moves against their shadow and the Azorius have enough detention cells to arrest the entire plane. We are the balance: we are the key to the salvation of Ravnica itself, all we need is you…”
A loud scream cut the Scion off mid-sentence.