Rose-Owls and Pumpkin Girls

I am finishing The New Thing, as people seem to be continuing to enjoy it.  But because this is time-consuming, I only know people are enjoying it if they comment and let me know.  I have really enjoyed doing this, and I’m amazed that we managed to make it all the way to the end without running out of steam.

So!  Welcome to the “DVD extras” for episode ten of the Murders at Karlov Manor story, “Roots of Decay.”  This story is copyright Wizards of the Coast, although it was written by me, and can be found in its entirety here: https://magic.wizards.com/en/news/magic-story/episode-10-roots-of-decay

Please click the link, even if the story isn’t relevant to you.  Click-throughs are how Wizards knows that Story matters.

So what is this?  This is little excerpts of the story, with my thoughts on them, because, IDK, I thought it was funny.  I’ve also tried to include context for people new to Magic Story, to help you understand what the hell is going on.  If people continue to like it, I will probably continue.  If you don’t care about Magic Story, skip on over, although I’d still like it if you clicked.

And here we go!

As always, from this point on, plain text is bits from the story, italic text is my commentary on the same.

The vine around Kaya’s ankle pulled tight enough to feel like it was grinding against the bone. Not that pain was the problem; she was an assassin and had been called on to serve as a warrior more times than she liked to ponder. Pain was an old friend at this point. Pain meant she wasn’t dead yet, and as the vine whipped her toward what was sure to be a devastating impact with the ground, she knew without question that she wasn’t ready to be. Death came for everyone, even Planeswalkers—and wow, did she know that was true—but she’d never seen any sign that the dead could walk between planes. When she died, she’d be staying wherever she fell.

Elspeth can still planeswalk after the death of her human self, but as she immediately experienced an apotheosis and came back as a literal angel, I’m not sure she counts as “evidence” that the Multiverse doesn’t work on Wreck-It Ralph rules.  Die in a game that’s not your own, get trapped there, never make it back to where you belong.

It was a devastating thought, forming fast as she was pulled through the air. Did the ghosts of Planeswalkers haunt the planes where they died, never able to go home, wherever that was? Or did they cross the Blind Eternities one last time, one final gentle passage to the place their hearts could be at peace?

A lot of people who have survived devastating crashes and other natural disasters have described their minds wandering during the instant between realizing this is inevitable and actually moving beyond the accident, whatever that looks like for them.  This is Kaya’s mind trying to protect her.

And maybe big questions of cosmology could wait until she wasn’t about to get pancaked on Ravnican soil. Because one thing she could say for sure: she did not want to die on Ravnica. She refused to be just one more Orzhov ghost, one more eternal cog in a machine that couldn’t afford to stop turning, ever, no matter how many people were ground up inside it.

Kaya is too fond of not being Orzhov 100% of the time to want to die and get stuck on a plane where that becomes all that she will ever be.

If Oba wanted to wield Mat’Selesnya like a weapon, there was no reason for Kaya not to respond in kind.

If Oba is going to cheat, Kaya’s going to cheat, too.

Down, until she reached the place where her spark burned, that small fragment of the Multiverse that tied her to the Blind Eternities and made her what she was, always precious, ever since the moment she’d felt it catch fire at the core of everything she was, changing the way she understood reality forever. Even more precious now that it was so very, very rare.

A Planeswalker spark isn’t the same thing as a literal Worldsoul, but it’s a connection to the Blind Eternities.  In a way, all Planeswalkers are avatars of the Blind Eternities.  Their home is the space between the seconds, and asking for aid is a reasonable response.

Planeswalkers had always been a rarity, but she couldn’t imagine another time when their numbers had fallen so quickly and so brutally.

I think I already said this, but I’m not certain, so: after the Phyrexian Invasion, the fabric of the Multiverse changed, and many Planeswalker sparks were extinguished.  We still don’t know why.

The Blind Eternities would carry the scars of Phyrexia forever, and so would she.

This is actually an important beat of Kaya accepting that her trauma won’t just magically go away.

She barely felt her body turn intangible enough to slip through the vine. Oba howled fury and disbelief as Kaya, still semi-solid, landed lightly on the floor of Vitu-Ghazi, glowing lambent purple with her own magic—but also prismatic, bright as the skies over Kaldheim, as she held the connection to the Blind Eternities that would normally have whisked her away to some other place or plane, some other set of problems.

Kaya finding a way to use her Planeswalker spark to stay, rather than using it to run away, felt like a good way to show how far she’s come over the course of this story.  Plus, I love unusual applications of powers that don’t break the rules.

But that was the big difference between Kaya Far-Traveler and the actual dead. When she struck the living, they felt it.

“Kaya Far-Traveler” is one of the titles Kaya has picked up during her adventures.  I didn’t have an opportunity to use it before now, but I love it.

The guild leaders had been entangled and subdued, even Ral, whose body juddered and shook with the waves of lightning that ran across it, apparently outside of his control.

Lightning collectors can be damaged and that’s bad.  I mostly play Izzet these days.  When you’re Izzet, something is going to happen.  Whether it happens to me or to you is negotiable.

She gave her daggers another spin and started across the uneven floor toward Oba, phasing easily through the obstacles in her path, including the motionless body of Tolsimir.

Sorry to step in your kidney, dude.

Oba jerked around to face Kaya, snarling. “Why won’t you die?” Oba demanded.

“Lots of people have asked me that,” said Kaya, phasing one dagger back to solidity just long enough to sever a swinging branch. “Some of them were a lot more frightening than you. Rage-twisted dryad lady? You aren’t even in the same league as some of the things I’ve seen.”

Kaya has faced Phyrexian praetors and literal apocalypses.  One angry dryad is a problem, sure, but it’s not the worst thing she’s ever had to deal with.

She shuddered theatrically, continuing her inexorable march forward. Oba swung more branches at her. She chopped those down as well.

Something wrapped around her waist, jerking her to a stop. Kaya looked down and was almost impressed to see a phantom branch holding her where she was.

“Clever,” she said, unable to keep the approval out of her tone. The Ravnican Worldsoul had to encompass all things on Ravnica, all aspects of the plane, and that included the dead. A severed branch wouldn’t normally manifest its own ghost, but the potential existed.

Don’t bring the living to a ghost fight.

She’d seen ghost trees in other places, and not all of them had been as functional or as worshipped as Kaldheim’s World Tree or Phyrexia’s Invasion Tree. They haunted the forests where they’d fallen, making their slow vegetable desires known.

I just want to say that I’m proud of the line “slow vegetable desires.”  Also, I now have the image of Wrenn’s home plane, and the ghost dryads growing alongside their sisters, silent and serene.  So I share that image with you.

Kaito would tell you the best place to walk in a storm is between the raindrops; you just have to move faster than they fall, she thought and turned solid again, free from the entangling ghost in an instant.

We’ve had plenty of Tyvar mentions, but he wasn’t the only member of her strike team.  Kaito is a ninja from a plane called Kamigawa, psychokinetic and incredibly graceful.  Following his advice on how to move is actually pretty clever of her.

Several more tangible branches lashed out to grab for her. She chopped the first two aside with her daggers before phasing through the third, moving into the space where the raindrops—or the potential murder weapons—were not. They grasped, she evaded. It was like a dance, a swift, potentially deadly dance, around the bodies of her friends and the fallen and the ones who were both.

Kaito would be proud of her.

A series of roots ripped through what was left of the floor and wrapped around her ankles. When she tried to step through them, she once again hit the resistance of the Ravnican Worldsoul, refusing to allow her to phase, refusing to let her go. So much for stepping between the raindrops, she thought.

One Planeswalker can’t be equally matched to a literal Worldsoul.  There’s “the hero always gets extra rolls,” and then there’s “the hero is so OP that it stops being fun.”

Well, Kaito wasn’t the only person she’d had the opportunity to learn from. Koth was nothing if he wasn’t a lesson in working with your environment, understanding and caring for the world that made you regardless of how difficult it became.

Koth is a geomancer originally from the plane of Mirrodin, now part of the new plane of Zhalfir.  He loved his plane and his land fiercely and completely, and we haven’t really spent a lot of time with him since that plane was lost forever.

She was a daughter of Tolvada, not Ravnica, but she had been here often enough and long enough that there was little chance the plane didn’t know who she was. Ravnica understood her, possibly better than her homeworld, and even if she didn’t want to haunt this plane when she died, she had to admit it was likely.

Kaya doesn’t have a home as such anymore, and if ghosts go home when their bodies die, she’s going to wind up in Ravnica no matter what she does.  And there’s a comfort to that, even as there’s a horror.

Tyvar’s love of the natural world and the easy way he had been able to turn it to his own advantage flashed across her mind as another branch grabbed for her and she phased through it, her spark pulsing a little brighter inside her chest as if to mark the moment.

Tyvar mention.  Drink!

And Nahiri, who had spoken to the stones around her—and the stones had seemed to answer back, hadn’t they? Implying that they could somehow understand …

Nahiri is an ancient lithomancer from the plane of Zendikar, confirmed to have lost her spark post-Invasion, and currently doing her best Shrek “get the hell out of my swamp” impression.  Kaya saw her fall on Phyrexia (she got better).

“Hey,” she said, voice loud enough that Oba scowled in evident confusion. “I don’t know you can understand me, but I’m taking a gamble here, because we are what you made us, and you are what we made you. Gods and monsters, heroes and villains, and a city to hold and keep us all. You don’t choose which ones of us you care about. You don’t take sides. Well, she wants you to take sides. And I say a Ravnica that chooses one side over another is no Ravnica at all. She wants to turn you into something you’re not.” She paused to shoot a venomous glance at Oba. “Just like the Phyrexians did.”

I do love this little speech of Kaya’s.  I feel like it encapsulates a lot of what people love about the plane, and why we keep going back there over and over again.

This time when she tried to phase, the roots passed right through her. Kaya raced the rest of the way across the room to Oba, jumping over roots, phasing through branches, and turning solid when the ghosts of branches lashed through her. Oba had a tighter grasp on the Worldsoul now; Kaya wasn’t going to talk her way around the dryad’s rage a second time.

Kaya basically just sidled up to the Ravnican Worldsoul, which was already almost manifest due to Oba’s influence, and said “hey, if you let me go, I’ll make the hurting stop.”  So the Worldsoul, which is Ravnica, exerted itself enough to release her.  She can’t pull that trick a second time.  It was a small thing, but it was a lot of work, and you only get one get out of jail free card.

Kaya’s rhythm had to be precise, as exact as Teysa tallying up the books. Every step had to balance the account opened by the step before it.

If Kaya is invoking her friends to get through this fight, Teysa has to be a part of what helps her.  It’s narratively essential.

The thought of Teysa turned out to be just what Kaya needed to find her focus. She owed a debt to the Orzhov. Teysa had forgiven part of it by taking over the leadership of the guild, and what had that gotten her? Murdered by a grief-poisoned Trostani who had been unable to tell friend from foe in the aftermath of the invasion. Dead and laying in state and probably to return—powerful Orzhov usually did—but never to be the same. Never to be alive. Her death was a line on a ledger that Kaya would never balance, never erase, and knowing that helped her move between, around, and through the obstacles Oba threw into her path.

Anger and grief are both solid motivators.

And then Kaya was stepping through a fallen bough as thick around as her own thigh, almost face to face with Oba for the first time since the chaos had begun. She blinked, and for a moment, she thought she saw Teysa, off to one side, gesturing for her to get on with it. Her attention snapped back to Oba as she snarled, beginning to spit some curse or insult at Kaya, and all Kaya could feel was grief, and weariness.

Teysa has been dead for several days, and it’s almost time for her to pull herself together, if she’s going to.  So is Kaya hallucinating, or is she finally catching a glimpse of what she’s been waiting for?  And is there a worse time than in the middle of the big climactic battle?

Vitu-Ghazi was a crime scene. And Trostani had acknowledged the authority of the Agency when she allowed them to hold their meeting here. Kaya straightened, anchor in her hand.

Behave like scenery, get treated like scenery.

“No,” she said and hit the button to deploy the barrier.

I think there’s a line missing here, as Kaya is currently refuting nothing at all.  I don’t know what happened.  I’m sorry.  I will now hang my head in shame for at least ten seconds.

Cascades of magical light shot out, struggling to wrap around Oba’s form. Again, Kaya thought she saw Teysa out of the corner of her eye, grabbing for the ribbons and guiding them back toward Oba, but she couldn’t look, couldn’t hope one way or the other, couldn’t allow herself to see—

So maybe Teysa’s here, and if she is, she’s helping.  Good lady.

Oba shrieked, thrashing against the wards. She was going to break loose. It was inevitable. Barrier wards were meant to be initialized from two ends at the same time, allowing them to seal off a scene without leaving anything exposed. She couldn’t do it alone, and she didn’t have anyone else: they were all tied down, all confined. She was going to lose. Again.

If that is Teysa, she’s currently solid enough to interact with magical energy, but not with solid objects.  She can’t handle the other end of the barrier ward.

The Dimir assassin, who had been lying motionless since she was impaled and had not been entwined by any of the roots that seized her allies, rolled onto her knees, blood pouring from the wound in her chest, and grabbed the second barrier ward anchor from where it lay forgotten on the floor.

Etrata has been playing dead until she could get a tactical advantage out of it!  A skill of her guild, it seems.  But now Kaya has her second anchor.

Frantic not to lose the ground they’d gained, Kaya grabbed the first thing she could find, her hands closing around one of Oba’s ghost branches. She forced a jolt of necromantic energy into it and felt it bow to her command, becoming hers rather than Oba’s. Snapping the newly flexible branch around, she whipped it into the mass of cords, using it to catch and confine the struggling dryad.

So we’re using an Agency barrier ward—absolutely a creation of Ravnica, one hundred percent of this plane—operated by a Dimir assassin and an Orzhov ghost, and the necromantically-controlled ghost of a piece of Vitu-Ghazi itself, to take down the Dryad of Life.  We’re getting ass-deep in the symbolism over here.

They pulled until Oba’s struggles stopped, until she was wound up in the barrier ward and the ghost Kaya had stolen from Vitu-Ghazi, as captive as a fly in the center of a spider’s web.

Dear Izoni: I’m sorry we stole your symbolism.

The other two heads of Trostani were beginning to stir. They straightened, then reached for their struggling sister. Each of them pressed a hand to her temple, and she went limp.

As soon as Oba’s control slipped, they were able to wake up, and they learned this trick from watching her.

Something inside Kaya collapsed at the same time. She could have killed Oba during the fight. Now, with the dryad captive and unconscious, it would be too much like an execution. She couldn’t do it. No matter how much she wanted to, she couldn’t.

It sucks to have scruples sometimes.

“Good meeting, all,” she said wearily. “We should never, ever do this again as long as any of us live. That work for you?”

I would be down to end most meetings this way, even if they didn’t feature killer dryads and stabby roots.  I am not a meeting fan.

In his cage of roots, Ral began to laugh, and after a moment, Kaya did the same. They laughed not because they were amused, but because they were alive, and sometimes relief can look a lot like joy when it’s seen in the right light.

Ral understands dark humor.  Thankfully.

“Yeah, I guess cleanup comes next,” Kaya said and moved to cut Proft free of the floor, offering her hand to help him to his feet. He nodded and took two steps before dropping to his knees and gathering the fallen Etrata into his arms.

“Were you playing dead that entire time?” he asked.

Proft has other priorities just now.

Proft blinked several times before tilting his face up toward the now distant ceiling. “What am I going to do with you?”

“Didn’t you know?” asked Etrata. “House Dimir is all but gone, our guildmaster dead. Our scattered assassins are like stray dogs. If you take one of us home, you have to keep us.”

You feed them, they follow you home, they’re yours now.

Proft looked at her sharply.

“Besides, you need an assistant, or you’re going to get yourself murdered in no time at all. I’m pretty sure half this room would pay me to do it.” Etrata looked briefly speculative. “Maybe I could get them to bid against each other.”

And thus is a partnership formed and formalized.

“You wouldn’t dare.”

“True enough.” Her expression softened. “An assistant needs a detective to protect. We’re an ecosystem now, you and me.”

I really like “we’re an ecosystem now, you and me” as a justification for doing things this way.

“And we’re going to have to talk about your stubborn insistence that Lazav is gone. We both know better.”

“A girl needs her secrets.”

They’re going to be arguing about this forever.  Lazav could appear in front of them, and Etrata would still be insisting he was dead; they could find his corpse, and Proft would still be insisting he was alive.

Oba had been right about one thing: you grieved harder for the people you knew than you grieved for strangers. That was the way the heart worked. That was the way the heart had to work, or there would be nothing but grief ever again, anywhere in the Multiverse.

This is a psychological fact; we grieve more for things that touch us directly, because otherwise we’d all be overcome with weeping, and nothing would ever get done.  Part of Kaya’s struggle has been trying to reconcile her grief over the people she loves and her lack of grief for the people she never knew.

It was better this way. Selfish and small, certainly, when compared to the vastness of something like the Blind Eternities, or even Vitu-Ghazi, but sometimes small was safer, because small was something that could be understood. Small was something that could be kept.

Kaya wanted to keep things for a while.

Kaya wants to get better.

Ral fingered a tear in the hem of his jacket. “Tomik is going to kill me,” he said. “He made me promise not to get into life-threatening fights with people I assumed were allies unless he was in the room, since apparently the presence of my spouse will keep me from behaving in what he called an ‘unreasonably reckless’ manner.”

Tomik knows who he married.

“If he asks, I promise to tell him you didn’t start this fight, and you spent most of it literally rooted to the floor, not taking any unnecessary risks,” said Kaya.

“Really?”

“I mean, it’s true. And sure, you would have been reckless if you’d been able to. Want me to tell him that?”

“I would prefer if you didn’t.”

Kaya smiled. “Then I’ll stick with my first story.”

I think Kaya and Ral may be better friends than Kaya thinks they are, just based on the way they interact when they’re actually allowed to do so.

“We would prefer to be alone with our grief,” said Cim. “We must go deep into our thoughts, and try to restore our connection to Mat’Selesnya, to see if she even wishes us to remain as we are, to speak for her, after what our sister has done. Perhaps we, too, are coming to an end. Emmara Tandris will speak for the Conclave while we are in communion, and perhaps even after our return, depending on the will of Mat’Selesnya. We have called for her. It may be you do not see us again.”

Mat’Selesnya is the Selesnya parun.  Trostani has been in control because they were connected to her.  If she no longer wants them to lead, they won’t.

Ses lowered her hands. “Everything ends. Trees root, they grow, they spread their leaves to the sun, they live for a time, and when that time is done, they die. If Mat’Selesnya says our time is done, we will go.”

This is Trostani promising to step down peacefully if necessary.  They knows they’ve lost the trust of the other guild leaders.

“The Guildpact …”

“Will be available to any who need it,” said Ses with surprising clarity. “Vitu-Ghazi is not fallen. Selesnya stands, for all that has happened. We will do our duty as required. If there is cause to consult the original Guildpact, it will be here for those who seek it.”

No you did not just lose another guild.  Now leave us the hell alone.

Making her way out of the manor, she realized with a start that she hadn’t seen any sign of Kellan since Oba threw him off the roof. She quickened her pace, hoping she wasn’t going to step outside and find her partner smeared across the stones of the courtyard.

In her defense, she was a little bit distracted before.

“Ezrim told me to stay outside while you talked to Trostani, but not to go anywhere before you knew I was okay,” said Kellan. “I’m okay. Are you okay?”

Oh, Kellan.

“I wish he’d told you to come in, but I’m glad he asked you to wait,” said Kaya. “No, I don’t think I’m okay. I don’t think I’m okay at all.”

Oh, Kaya.

Then, for the first time since she’d found Teysa dead in her office, Kaya allowed herself to do the unthinkable. In front of a very startled Kellan, she allowed herself to cry.

Kaya is finally ready for that fishing trip, I think.

Three days later, Kaya sat in a pew at Karlov Cathedral, staring at her hands as the Orzhov pallbearers selected for the honor of bringing Teysa to the altar carried her remains to the front.

It’s finally time for the funeral.  Yay, I guess?

There was a hollow boom as they set the coffin down. The organist played the traditional march that accompanied the entry of honored Orzhov dead. And a wry, irritated voice beside Kaya said, “What is this piece of music called, anyway?”

Because there’s no reason not to make a glorious entrance when the day is literally the story of you, told in eulogy and remembrance.  Teysa is no Judith, but she’s still Ravnican, and that means the drama is her birthright.

“I think it’s called ‘Waltz for the Deathless,'” said Kaya, not quite daring to raise her head.

“Funny.” Teysa sniffed. “I always thought it was called ‘You Can Take It with You.'”

The actual name of the song is probably “Waltz for the Deathless,” and while it was composed for a high-ranking Orzhov, guild members regularly license it for performance at their own funerals.  But Teysa’s name for it is also common, especially among younger guild members goofing around when their parents aren’t watching.

Teysa was next to her, only the faint transparency of her form betraying the fact that her body was on the altar while her ghost was with Kaya.

We all saw this coming.

The wound that killed her was gone. Unlike some ghosts, Teysa was clearly disinterested in defining her afterlife by the manner of her death.

Teysa will be defined as Teysa, and nothing else, forevermore.

Her cane leaned against her leg. It had been an extension of her body for as long as Kaya had known her; it only made sense that she would keep it with her now.

It was really important to us that death not erase one of the main physically disabled characters in Magic.  Teysa walks with a cane because Teysa walks with a cane.  Even if she no longer has a body to hurt her, habit carries over into the afterlife.

“I appreciate you keeping my guild from falling apart as I gathered myself,” said Teysa. “Also for helping to identify and eliminate my killer. That was kind of you.”

Let’s just assert ownership right off the bat.

“I owed you a debt for letting you die,” said Kaya.

“Consider it repaid in full, if it ever existed,” said Teysa. “Honestly, it’s better this way. No more hunger, no more distracting bodily needs, just me and the ledgers and the assets of the guild, the way it’s meant to be. Why would a little thing like death stop me from running the Syndicate? I’m going to be here for a long, long time.”

Kaya can dwell on how sad it is that Teysa isn’t alive anymore.  Teysa can’t do that.  There’s no going back; she needs to focus on the future.

“Was that you in the fight at Vitu-Ghazi?”

“Of course it was. I’ll always look out for you when you’re in Ravnica.”

Now there’s a promise.

“Why did you …?”

“You had business to do. I would only have been a distraction. Really, Kaya, you have to learn to do things in the proper order.”

Teysa’s right, but she’s also missing the part where Kaya has been waiting for her for days, and really, really needed to see her.

Kaya made a sound that could have been either a soft laugh or a sob. In the darkness of the cathedral, it passed easily for both. Teysa frowned, eyeing her.

“Are you all right?”

“I’m sorry I couldn’t kill Oba for you.”

Murder is better than a bouquet at your graveside.

“Don’t be,” said Teysa, voice turning hard. “Lavinia won’t find a justification for arresting her. There are too many loopholes she can worm her way through. I, on the other hand, don’t intend to use anything so straightforward as the law. Selesnya will doubtless make the argument that she can be purified and reformed. I intend to make the argument, through an army of accountants and financial bylaws so archaic Azor wouldn’t be able to comprehend them, that the price of assassinating an Orzhov guild leader is everything you thought you owned. They want her alive? Well, her death would have been far less expensive.”

I love this speech so much.  I just want to roll in it.  “the price of assassinating an Orzhov guild leader is everything you thought you owned.”  You go, Teysa.

“You’ll have to leave, of course. I wish it didn’t need to be this way, but if I’m intending to absolutely ruin Selesnya for not answering Oba’s treason by handing someone an axe, it’s best if I don’t have my predecessor, the known assassin, hanging about the place being all alive and confusing the question of who’s in charge.” Teysa looked expectantly at Kaya. “You understand, don’t you?”

Teysa is legitimately intending to further destabilize Ravnica to say “naughty naughty” about this whole situation.  The city of guilds is going to become the city of guild at this rate.  Everything’s going to finish collapsing, and it’ll just be the Gruul standing there going “well, this is an unexpected outcome, for sure.”

“I thought I’d lost you,” Kaya said and leaned over, half-phasing herself out of the world of the living as she reached out, not quite shaking, and embraced her friend.

After a moment, Teysa smiled and hugged her back.

Kaya’s specific power set means that she can still hug her dead friends, and I love this for her.

Kellan looked up, breaking into a wide smile. “Kaya!”

I’m glad she gets to say goodbye.

“I’m heading out in the morning,” she said, only a little amazed at the pang that rose in her chest. She was going to miss him, talented, unseasoned, eager partner that he was. It was nice to think there would still be people—living people—on Ravnica that she’d miss when she was gone. “Promised a friend I’d help him hunt for something he called a ‘dire bear’ once I finished with things here. He’s a nice guy. Very enthusiastic. I think you’d like him.” Fortunately, they would probably never meet. The thought of Kellan and Tyvar deciding to out-hero each other on the battlefield was exhausting.

This is going to be one hell of a fishing trip.

“Just wanted to check in before I hit the road. Any sign of Judith yet?”

“None.” Kellan shook his head. “No one’s found a body, or seen her, and no one’s claimed the kill. The rest of the Rakdos seem to be laying low for the moment, and even though they’re no longer on the verge of war with Boros, that’s probably for the best. Aurelia’s feathers are well and truly ruffled.”

Not being able to find Judith means no one’s found her crystal skull full of ghost investigator, either, which is probably part of why Aurelia’s feathers are so ruffled.

“Yup. Things are going to be interesting here even without you,” said Kellan. Then he grinned. “I’m so glad.”

Kaya grinned back. “Weirdly enough, me, too.”

And we know Kellan likes things interesting.  I don’t think he’ll be staying on Ravnica for long after this.

So that’s our murder mystery.  Lots of unanswered questions, but some of them are things that can easily be intuited, if not said on the page.  Lots of changes to the status quo.  I hope you’ve had as much fun reading as I had writing, and I’ll be back tomorrow with one last roundup!

I am trying A New Thing. 

Specifically, I am trying to write “DVD extras” for episode one of the Murders at Karlov Manor story, “Ghost of Our Past.”  This story is copyright Wizards of the Coast, although it was written by me, and can be found in its entirety here: https://magic.wizards.com/en/news/magic-story/episode-1-ghosts-of-our-past

Please click the link, even if the story isn’t relevant to you.  Click-throughs are how Wizards knows that Story matters.

So what is this?  This is little excerpts of the story, with my thoughts on them, because, IDK, I thought it was funny.  I’ve also tried to include context for people new to Magic Story, to help you understand what the hell is going on.  If people like it, I may continue.  If you don’t care about Magic Story, skip on over.

And here we go!

It’s always exciting to get approached by Wizards of the Coast to write for Magic Story.  I love the team I get to work with, and as a daughter of the fanfic mines, I love feeling like I’m part of something bigger than myself.  Whether it’s a side story or a main story, the request is thrilling.  So when I was asked to write the main story for Murders at Karlov Manor, I was delighted to agree.  I was even more delighted when I learned that this would be a) a murder mystery, and b) the first ten-episode main story.

The sky over Karlov Manor danced with a dizzying array of colors, brought to life by shimmering cascades of magic. The Orzhov had purchased every Izzet pyrowork in the Tenth District, creating a profligate display of power and plenty.

Ravnica is one of the most fleshed-out and beloved Magic settings, with more affectionate fans than even Dominaria, Magic’s original setting.  So writing anything set here was going to require me to acknowledge the Plane’s character as quickly as possible.  Obviously, we’re spending a lot of time with the Orzhov Syndicate in a story that’s set in the home of one of their higher-ups, and if you want fireworks, well, you go to the Izzet League, the red-blue Guild of blowing stuff up real good.  As a Magic player, I’m mostly an Izzet girl these days.  Getting both Guilds into the first two sentences mattered to me.

Ravnica is safe now: we do not need to worry and conserve for wartime. It was a calculated expenditure, and every burst of colors or illusionary blossoms falling from the sky reminded the people living in the shadow of the Orzhov Syndicate who their saviors were.

This establishes both that we’re post-Phyrexian Invasion, without coming out and stating it, and that the Guilds are claiming the credit for the Plane’s survival.  That’s important.

A few servers in toned-down versions of the more elaborate uniforms worn by those working the interior walked back and forth with trays of equally less elaborate starters, sharing the rare largess of the guild with the less fortunate.

The Orzhov Syndicate is the black-white Guild of finance and usury.  They believe that all money belongs to them, and they want you in their debt as much as possible.  Having them giving things away, even it’s if only cheap appetizers, establishes quickly what an unusual situation this is.

Teysa, newest head of the Syndicate, stood on the manor’s highest balcony, watching the gathering throng and sipping from a glass of strong coffee laced with bumbat.

Last time we saw Teysa Karlov, she was Kaya’s second-in-command, not the head of the Guild.  So this is a change in her station, and quickly establishing that she’s comfortable in her new position.  Bumbat is a Ravnican drink, and of course we want to include as many Ravnican details as possible.

Soundless as ever, Kaya stepped up next to her, stopping when she reached the rail.

I was overjoyed when I found out I got to write Kaya again.  She was part of the strike team in Phyrexia: All Will Be One, and I enjoyed her immensely.  More, picking her up again so soon gave me a sense of continuity, and I didn’t have to cast around for her character.

Her glance downward was more calculating than Teysa’s proprietary appraisal: where Teysa looked like she was measuring the value of the people below them, Kaya looked like she was assessing how long it would take them all to escape should things go wrong.

And this is why Kaya was never going to be the forever-leader of the Syndicate.  Her focus is in the wrong places.

Teysa slanted her a sidelong glance, eyes raking along the length of the barely presentable Planeswalker’s form.

Kaya is still a Planeswalker, unlike so many others.  Again, this was important to establish quickly, and didn’t necessarily need to be stated aloud.

“But you are a miserly host,” Kaya protested without rancor. “Or at least a calculated one. Every zib you spend on this gala will come back to you a golden zino, or you’re not the person who outmaneuvered me and seized the reins while my back was turned.”

Ravnican currency.  And how Teysa took control.

Teysa smiled. “I missed you. You’ve always seen me so clearly.”

“Clarity gets easier with distance.”

“Yes, and you were distant when the invasion came to Ravnica.” Teysa’s smile sharpened like the knife it was. “You owe me this night, Kaya. No matter how far you’ve traveled, you’re Orzhov enough to pay your debts. When Ravnica needed you, you weren’t here.”

Ah, the crux of Kaya’s presence is revealed: she wasn’t on Ravnica when the Invasion arrived, and because the locals consider her one of their own, this is a problem.  She’s being blamed for it in a way unfamiliar Planeswalkers aren’t.  But that means she may also find a bit of forgiveness among the current anti-Planeswalker sentiment.  Always easier to forgive your own.

“If I’d been here instead of defending the Multiverse, neither of us would be here now!” snapped Kaya. “Don’t you dare act like I stopped caring about Ravnica because I couldn’t be here. I was”—her voice faltered, turning thick in her throat, and she glanced down at her feet—”I was doing my best.”

The Strike Team failed.

“Yes, and tonight, you do your best for me,” said Teysa. “The Agency has helped us to control and contain the chaos that followed the … unpleasantness. Without them, we’d have far more than two useless guilds on our hands. All ten might have been gutted by the invaders, and then what would have become of our plane? So tonight, you smile when I say smile, and you bow when I say bow, and you remember your debts to the Orzhov, if you don’t want to remember your debts to me.”

So we’ve broken two Guilds in the Invasion, but which two?  And who is this mysterious ‘Agency’ that Teysa’s talking about?  Let’s see if we can find out.

“If you faint because you’re too stubborn to eat, your debts remain unpaid,” said Teysa. “And even if you’re too stubborn to enjoy the evening, I oversaw the menu, and I refuse to miss the strudel.” She walked past Kaya to the door, leaning heavily on her walking cane. Clearly expecting obedience, she didn’t look back.

Teysa has a bad leg, and her disability has always been a key part of her character.  As someone who walks with a cane, it was important to me that we mention her disability quickly and without any judgement—it’s part of who she is, and that’s all that matters.  Also, any strudel Teysa chose for her table would be amazing.

Neither of them gave Kaya a second glance, even as she dropped her symbolic coin into the plate held by the one on the left.

The Orzhov charges their members for everything, from using a door to using the bathroom.  Most of the party is free, but Teysa and Kaya were talking in an off-limits area, and of course Kaya is expected to pay if she wants to leave.

Teysa nodded to each as she passed, her small, cool smile never wavering. Kaya knew that smile. Teysa called it “number twenty-four: you are honored by my attentions.”

Teysa is calculating in all things, even her affection.

Not every guild prized social acumen the way the Orzhov or Simic did, but even the Izzet and Gruul had their public speakers, and those had been the members chosen to represent them at what was clearly being treated as the social event of the season.

More Guilds.  The Simic are the blue-green Guild of science and experimentation, while the Gruul are the red-green Guild of personal freedom and big smashy monsters.

Kaya was abstractly surprised not to see Ral Zarek, who she would have expected to find representing his guild. Perhaps it was considered unfashionable to invite a Planeswalker, unless you had them properly leashed.

Ral is the current head of the Izzet Syndicate, and a red-blue Planeswalker who specializes in lightning magic and, yes, big explosions.  Much like Teysa, Wizards had a guest list of people they wanted at the party, and it was a long one.  I wasn’t really cramming people in who didn’t need to be there, I didn’t have the word count for it.

Through it all, Teysa guided Kaya, pulling her effortlessly through the tiers of society until she reached the innermost ring. It had formed around the great form of Ezrim, the massive archon having occupied the center of the courtyard, where he was apparently deep in conversation with Lavinia, current head of the Azorius Senate.

The Azorius are the blue-white Guild of law and government—which is not, oddly enough, the cops.  And an archon is a sort of mounted knight, larger than human-size, never seen without their steed.  The inclusion of Ezrim meant I got to quiz my story leads on archon biology, which was very satisfying for me, and somewhat frazzling for them.

Kaya seized the opportunity to duck away, moving toward a server with a small tray of bacon-wrapped asparagus spears and neatly plucking one from the assortment. The server, who wore Orzhov colors, looked at her with awe and a small measure of fear.

“You’re her,” he said. “Our former leader. The Planeswalker.”

Planeswalkers are terrifying, now that people know they exist.

Kaya didn’t resist as Teysa pulled her toward Tolsimir and Aurelia, who were apparently deep in a conversation about the absent Dimir. Judith stood nearby, shamelessly eavesdropping as she sipped from a flute of something pale and sparkling, a cruelly amused spark in her eyes. She was dressed in black and red, as always, standing out sharply against the more elegantly attired crowd.

More Ravnican notables.  Tolsimir represents the Selesnya Conclave, the green-white Guild of growth and nature.  He’s not their guild leader, but their actual guild leader isn’t very mobile, so he stands in.  Aurelia is the head of the Boros Legion, the red-white Guild of authority and peacekeeping—think the Ravnican police.  And Judith is a high-ranking member of the Cult of Rakdos, the red-black Guild of hedonism and performance.

As Teysa approached, Tolsimir was saying sharply to Aurelia, “It’s naive to think that Lazav is dead. That man will outlive us all. I don’t know what he’s planning, but he’s planning something. Teysa, tell her Lazav isn’t dead.”

Lazav is (or was?) the guild leader of House Dimir, the Guild of shadowy deals, conspiracies, and assassinations.  He’s a shapeshifter, and so determining his death borders on impossible.  But it seems Dimir may be one of the two “useless guilds” Teysa referred to earlier.

“As a fellow guild leader, I would be overstepping to attempt to summon his spirit without better cause than my own curiosity,” said Teysa smoothly. “I can, however, confirm that I haven’t seen him among the departed, although it’s been very busy, with all the spirits of the recently dead trying to settle their affairs. So few of them can afford the service.”

Like most Orzhov, Teysa can speak to and command ghosts.  By saying she hasn’t summoned Lazav’s spirit because of their equal social positions, she’s excusing herself from the argument of whether or not he’s dead, and possibly implying that the Dimir helped her seize control of her Guild.

“Yes, the risk of bankruptcy is plainly very near indeed.” She flicked a hand in a dismissive gesture, brushing the topic aside as she inserted herself into the discussion. “But I see you’ve brought your trophy of the evening. Hello, Kaya. How have you been? Started any invasions recently? Were you aware that whenever you’re in the city, all the guilds activate our crisis management divisions?”

Judith is a very classic mean girl.  If she didn’t always wear red and black, she’d look amazing in pink.  Get in, loser.  We’re going slaughtering.

“Ravnicans died,” said Judith, levity gone.

Judith is called “the Scourge Diva,” and people get hurt in her performances.  She’s being a little hypocritical here.

“So did Planeswalkers,” said Kaya. “I lost friends in that fight, same as you did. Not only to death, either. Ravnica doesn’t grieve alone.”

Planeswalkers died during the Phyrexian Invasion—Lukka, Tamiyo (although it’s an exaggeration to call Lukka a “friend”).  More Planeswalkers were compleated, and were lost in a different sense.  Kaya is basically dealing with a whopping serving of survivor’s guilt and PTSD right now, and is not taking Judith’s shit.  Nor should she!

“You do keep things ticking away by the numbers,” said Tomik, appearing at Teysa’s other elbow.

Judith’s smile returned, more assured now. “Oh, look,” she said. “Three leaders of the Syndicate in a line. Which one do you suppose balances the books best? Or—I’m sorry, Tomik. Is it Izzet now, for you?”

“My husband’s guild is not my own,” said Tomik stiffly. “Teysa, we’re needed on the grand balcony.”

Tomik was leader of the Orzhov before Kaya was.  His husband, Ral, is the aforementioned leader of the Izzet.  Judith is being incredibly insulting with her insinuations here, and is lucky neither Kaya nor Tomik didn’t deck her.  Teysa doesn’t deck people.  Teysa quietly, pleasantly bankrupts them.

Tomik, at least, seemed to understand Kaya’s discomfort: how could he not, when Ral was one of those who grieved the losses Ravnica would never know, the lives lost, the sparks extinguished, all to feed Phyrexia’s endless hunger?

Being married to a Planeswalker has left Tomik a little more understanding of Kaya’s situation than most people.

Teysa began to climb the stairs, leaning more heavily on her cane. Tomik stepped back, unable to assist his superior without it looking like a comment on her fitness, even as her hand on Kaya’s shoulder gripped tighter, using the other woman for stability as much as anything else. Kaya glanced at her.

“Is it hurting you?”

“No,” said Teysa. “Stairs just grow more challenging as I get older. Nothing worth fretting about. Here!”

Many mobility impairments get more severe with age.  Teysa is completely competent and able to perform her duties, but stairs are becoming more and more of a challenge.

The applause died down. Kaya stepped back. Teysa smiled at the courtyard once more. “But perhaps even more importantly, tonight we honor the members of the Ravnican Agency of Magicological Investigations.”

This is a new organization, formed during the Invasion, and still a relative mystery to readers both old and new.  You have as much information right now as anybody else.

Laughter rippled through the crowd. Teysa, who had acquired a flute of kasarda from a passing server, offered him a smirking salute, taking the ribbing with good spirits.

Karsada is another Ravnican beverage, and something to be savored.

“Many of you were present last month, when a Gruul god broke loose of guild control and wreaked havoc across the Ninth District. Anzrag could have continued his rampage for days, had we been reliant on the guilds for immediate support. But the quick thinking and actions of Investigator Kellan and his team brought the rampage to a halt, and the god has been properly contained within an evidence capsule. Kellan, please approach.”

Kellan is a relatively new character, first introduced in the Wilds of Eldraine and now popping up all over the place, thanks to the Omenpaths.  The half-fae son of the Planeswalker Oko, he has a gift for getting into trouble—and, apparently, for apprehending Gruul gods, which is no small feat.  He’s growing up quickly, our Kellan!

“Ral—”

“Ral wasn’t on New Phyrexia. Ral didn’t see how bad it was going to be. Jace …” She shuddered, shaking her head. “For weeks, I saw him every time I closed my eyes. He fought as hard as he could, but he lost. And because of that, we all lost.”

Jace fell to Phyrexia.  Kaya had to watch.  Jace Beleran was the living Guildpact of Ravnica for a time, and is well-known to all Ravnican notables.

Halfway down the stairs, she passed Kellan, now smiling uncertainly at Zegana and Vannifar as they fixed him with too-sharp eyes, taking his measure. They looked ruffled and unhappy, as if he had interrupted something by coming too close to them.

Kaya knew the pair had been on poor terms since Vannifar unseated her predecessor. Seeing them here together was odd.

Zegana was the former head of the Simic, and has been replaced by Vannifar.  Vannifar is classified as an “elf ooze,” having self-mutated until she’s become the first known elf-jellyfish hybrid in the Multiverse.

“Are you quite sure you’re not that detective Proft everyone’s been talking about?” Zegana asked.

Now that’s a new name…

Kellan took her arm with visible relief, and the pair descended to ground level, where—somehow, impossibly—Teysa was waiting next to the buffet, her attention fixed on the gaudily dressed goblin as intently as a cat might fixate on a bird.

“—payment,” she was saying, as the pair approached.

The goblin looked nervous. “I acquired my invitation through legitimate means.”

Krenko is a well-known figure on Ravnica, and a legitimate business goblin.  Teysa is probably just being mean.  She’s good at that.

She would have said more, but a ruckus broke out above them, catching everyone’s attention. On the balcony, Ezrim watched impassively as three members of Teysa’s security dragged away a shouting centaur dressed in the colors of the Gruul Clans. The centaur was clearly enraged, struggling to break free.

Ever try to arm-wrestle a centaur?  I just enjoy the image of this little fight.

Kaya turned away from the scene, focusing on a distressed Kellan. “Nothing ever really changes, does it?” she asked. “It puts on a new coat and calls itself remade, but it’s all the same under the surface.”

Ravnica Remastered comes out next week.  I am very funny.

The sky was beautiful, although the ongoing fireworks blocked the stars. She would have liked to see the stars. She had always liked the Ravnican stars. She leaned against the wall, closing her eyes.

As both a writer of the lore and a reader of the lore, I like thinking about how different things often are for Planeswalkers.  Different constellations, different ways of doing things, different honey and different butterflies.  They don’t just travel between countries: they travel between worlds, and they’re always a little out of place.  I dunno.  It’s just something I enjoy focusing on.

Unlike some of the people she cared about, her spark still burned as bright as it ever had and would reach across the Blind Eternities to carry her wherever she wanted to go.

Because she didn’t lose her spark in the aftermath of the Invasion, Kaya is still able to Planeswalk at will, and cross the Blind Eternities with a thought.

She could return to Kaldheim, see how Tyvar was adjusting to his new limitations, or head for Dominaria, or Innistrad, or Alara—there were no limits. She didn’t have to stay here.

Pretty sure there was a drinking game centering on how long it would take me to mention Tyvar in this story.  He’s not here, which is a pity.  He would have enjoyed the party, and driven Teysa up a tree by refusing to put on a shirt.

She felt herself begin to reach, desire becoming reality, and stopped, opening her eyes and digging her heels into the balcony. Teysa might make her point in the worst possible ways, but she was also right: when Ravnica needed her most, Kaya had allowed her own sense of what mattered to take her away. If she’d stayed, she might have been able to shape the Orzhov into more of a force for good. If she’d refused her position on the strike team so someone else could hold it, maybe they would have been successful. There was no way of knowing, but if she’d stayed here, she might have changed everything.

Kaya has a lot of guilt to deal with, and a lot of it centers on not stopping the Invasion.  Really, I don’t think Kaya was the weak point on the Strike Team, like, at all.  There were a lot of better choices that could have been made.  She did her part efficiently, effectively, and well.  She just wasn’t enough to bring them to victory.

“I understand. This is a lot to deal with, even for me, and I know the invasion hurt you as much as it hurt us, but I’m glad I found you.” Teysa took a deep, oddly unsteady breath. “There’s something I need to tell you. Something important. And I needed to catch you alone.”

“We were alone before.”

“Not really.” Teysa waved a hand. “Before the gala began, there were people lurking to make sure I didn’t need anything. We needed to be alone.”

“All right. What is it?”

Teysa has a secret.  Wonder what it is?

Teysa started to reply as a scream rang out from inside the manor, drowning out her words and shattering the moment.

Kaya didn’t pause to think before running toward the sound. This time, if Ravnica needed her, she wouldn’t let them down.

Poor Kaya.  Bruised and exhausted, but still a hero.  I’m not sure she ever won’t be.