Read Online Agents of Artifice: A Planeswalker Novel by Ari Marmell - Free Book Online Page A

crossbow, tempted by a perfect shot, only to be dissuaded from pulling the trigger by a companion. As long as the spotters remained unseen, the guards shouldered all the risk. Should the shot go wide or draw the attention of whichever of the twosome was not the target, the results could be unpleasant indeed. And so they kept low and silent, serving only as eyes and ears, rather than hands and blades.
    Panting hard, sweating like a demon in church, the mages skidded around still another corner and found themselves staring down the length of an avenue. It was much like any other street, covered in cobblestones, lined by shops that stood far taller than they needed to, in pursuit of status and respectability. It also extended abominably, almost impossibly far before any other street or alleyway offered a viable crossroad. Before them, ambling from one establishment to the next, the crowds formed a living wall. Kallist and Liliana exchanged grim glances, and each knew the other’s thoughts as clearly as if they’d spoken.
    There was no way they could cover the distance before their pursuers caught up with them.
    “If you’ve been waiting to surprise me with a flying spell,” Liliana said grimly, “this would be an excellent time.”
    Kallist frowned bitterly. “Jace, maybe, could do it. I don’t have the first clue. What about your—”
    She shook her head. “I can hover, but it’s not exactly a quick means of escape.” She grimaced and turned to face the nearing pursuit. “We can take them, Kallist.”
    “No. Killing city guards is never worth the repercussions. Trust me, I know.”
    And then the time for talk was past. The citizens dispersed, blowing leaves scattering before a wind of armor and blades; Kallist and Liliana found themselves surrounded by a hedge of sword and spear.
    “Afternoon, officers,” Kallist said, a sickly grin plastered to his face. “Is there a problem?”
    The man who pushed his way to the front was tall and slender, with an autumn-red mustache drooping over his mouth, and a chin sharp enough to serve as a backup weapon. Human, but perhaps with the faintest trace of elven blood in his ancestry, he wore a sulfur-yellow tabard above a shirt of chain, and a badge of red metal on his left breast in the general shape of a dragon. A mark of rank, probably, but damned if Kallist knew what it meant. Ever since the dissolution of the Legion, every district or aristocrat-employed security force on Ravnica seemed to go whole hog with their own signs and symbols.
    “You shouldn’t have run,” he barked, his breath heavy with arrogance and a few lingering traces of breakfast eggs. “My men and I don’t enjoy chasing folk. You’ve just made things harder for yourselves.”
    “But we didn’t do anything!” Liliana protested, wearing her best wide-eyed, lips-parted, beautifully innocent face. “You frightened us. Of course we ran; we don’t even know why you were chasing us!”
    She was good, no doubt; many of the guards found themselves lowering their weapons without conscious thought. But their commander, who had seen it all before and laughed at it then, reacted only to laugh at it once more.
    “How about that, boys? They didn’t do anything. Guess we have to let them go.”
    The youngest soldier on the squad turned toward his commander with puzzled expression. “Really?”
    The older guard rolled his eyes heavenward and cuffed the younger hard across the side of his head.
    “We have solid reports,” he told the prisoners, “of the two of you causing all manner of ruckus, disturbing the peace, and even assaulting citizens over the course of the last couple of days. You’re both under arrest.”
    “We just passed through the bridge gates no more than an hour ago,” Kallist protested. “Check with your own damned guards!”
    The commander only shrugged. “They watch hundreds of folk pass in and out every day. Can’t be expected to trust their recollections of any specific two,