Ever since Jaya Ballard had led them to Dovin Baan’s home on Kaladesh (before returning to Ravnica to help Kaya), Vivien Reid had been tracking the vedalken for Vraska.
The two of them were making their way through the city of Ghirapur, following in broad daylight the barely noticeable blood trail that Baan had left behind in the dead of night. Jaya had warned Vraska that there were no gorgons native to Kaladesh, so Vraska was expecting the same kind of response she’d always received on Ravnica. Fear. No one liked to encounter a monster loose on the streets. And Vraska had long ago been trained to regard herself as a monster. The label had defined her for so long, from her earliest childhood memories, that at some point she had begun behaving like a monster. A killer. An assassin. A traitor. The kind of creature that would achieve her goals by any means necessary, no matter who was hurt along the way.
She had her hood up over her head and pulled down low over her brow, hoping it would hide her tendrils and eyes, hoping it would hide what she was, long enough for her to find Baan, kill him and get out.
Last thing I need is to start a panic.
Focused as she was on these bitter thoughts, she nearly tripped over a young girl, of maybe seven or eight years, who was playing some version of kanala—a game of marbles and chalk—on the ground. Vraska had clear memories of playing kanala as a small gorgon, though she had more memories of her exclusion from the pastime, even by her own Golgari peers, especially by the devkarin elves and humans, who had been taught their superiority to all other members of the Swarm on their mothers’ knees—if not in their mothers’ wombs.
The crouching girl, a glass shooter of swirling blue trapped between two fingers, looked up at Vraska with big brown eyes. Immediately Vraska realized that from the girl’s low angle, she could see right up into Vraska’s hood. Any second, she would see what Vraska was and scream. It took tremendous willpower on Vraska’s part not to summon up the golden light behind her eyes, all her willpower to thwart the knee-jerk impulse to turn this playing child to stone for the simple crime of being in the gorgon’s way.
On the other hand, she was perfectly prepared to draw her cutlass and threaten the girl into silence.
None of which was necessary. The child stared right into Vraska’s eyes and tilted her head. She reached out a hand with such simple innocence that Vraska found her own hand leave the hilt of her sword in order to help the girl to her feet.
This human child with dark hair, dark skin and dark eyes smiled up at the Queen of the Golgari and said, “You’re different.”
Vraska swallowed. For a moment, she felt as if she were seven or eight years old, holding her breath to see if she’d be rejected one more time.
The girl said, “You’re so pretty.”
She held out both arms, and Vraska picked her up. The girl reached out to remove Vraska’s hood. The gorgon shook her head, and so instead the girl reached her hands into the hood and stroked Vraska’s tendrils ever so gently.
The girl smiled.
Vraska smiled back.
Vivien broke the spell. “Are you coming?” she asked impatiently.
The guilds’ chosen assassin hardened and nodded. Still, she was careful enough lowering the girl back to the ground. The girl held up the blue shooter as an offering, a gift.
Vraska whispered, “That’s too precious, child. You should keep it.”
The girl said, “I have three. And it’s pretty like you.”
Vraska held out her hand, palm up, and the girl dropped the marble into it. “What’s your name?” she asked.
“Vraska,” Vivien Reid said curtly, summoning her hunting partner, not answering the girl’s question.
Ignoring her, the gorgon said, “I am Queen Vraska of the Golgari. What is your name, child?”
“If you’re a queen, can I be your princess?”
“Yes. Yes, please.”
“Then I am Princess Aesha.”
“It is lovely to meet you, Princess Aesha.”
The girl giggled.
“I have to go now,” the queen said.
The princess nodded.
“Goodbye, Princess.”
“Goodbye, Queen.”
Vraska moved on, risking one last glance over her shoulder. Princess Aesha was already crouching over her kanala circle (or whatever they called it here) with another blue marble, taking aim. Vraska was already a memory or maybe already forgotten.
Still, the gorgon found herself smiling.
She came up alongside Vivien, who eyed her sardonically. “Making friends?”
Vraska felt suddenly invulnerable to any such cynicism. “Yes,” she said. “That was Princess Aesha. We have sworn eternal loyalty to each other.”
“Is there such a thing?”
“For at least a few minutes more, I will choose to believe there is.” Vraska held up the blue marble. “See? She gave me her pledge.”
“Mmm-hmm.” She almost smirked.
Still following the scattered drops of blood, Vivien turned a corner. Vraska slipped the marble into her jacket pocket. Then patted it to make sure it was secure. She stayed even with Vivien, but her mind was still on Aesha. She wasn’t fooling herself. The child was innocent, open. Not everyone on Kaladesh would have reacted as this princess had. Still, it was another taste of life free of Ravnican prejudice. She had had this on Ixalan, where she was a respected ship captain.
All right, fine, it was a pirate ship. But piracy’s a respectable trade on Ixalan.
She and Jace had been happy there. Maybe happier than Vraska had ever been in her entire life. She thought about returning to Ixalan with him—or the two of them exploring Vryn together. Or going just about anywhere in the Multiverse—as long as it was not Ravnica and with him. She could never be free on Ravnica. Even as a queen, she would always be the monster there, the assassin, the killer.
Isn’t this hunt ample evidence of that?
Vivien stopped at the edge of a river. She grasped her bow and nocked an arrow.
Vraska stayed her hand. “What are you doing? Who are you shooting at?”
“In a way, Dovin Baan.” Shaking Vraska off, she let the arrow fly. With a dull thud, it struck the ground on the opposite bank. A glowing green spirit wolf emerged from the arrow and immediately began sniffing and snuffling among the wildflowers on the far shore.
It stopped and raised its head to howl. A soundless howl that still told the story.
There was a footbridge fifty yards upriver. They crossed and made their way back along the riverside. The spirit beast was just fading away when they arrived. Vivien pulled the arrow from the ground and used it to point at another drop of Dovin’s blood near some trampled weeds. She said, “He crossed the river here last night. This way.”
And they walked on. Into the countryside. Then they doubled back toward town. Then they zigzagged for twenty minutes.
Then Vivien stopped. She looked around. She studied the turf, the vegetation, the stones. She shook her head. “There’s no further evidence or sign of Baan. I’m fairly certain he must have planeswalked from this spot.”
“Fairly certain?”
“Certain, then. And it’s been too long to follow his aether-trail. At least too long for me.”
She looked at Vraska, who shrugged, silently acknowledging that she could do no better.
Vivien said, “Perhaps the Wanderer could be of some assistance after she gets back from helping Zarek.”
“And how long will that take?” Vraska said, frustrated.
Now it was Vivien Reid’s turn to shrug.
I want this over with, damnit.
“What will you do?” Vivien asked.
“What can I do? I’ll return to Ravnica, where the Golgari require their queen.”
After all, Ravnica is where the gorgon Vraska belongs.