Smell Spell

Jace smiled tightly as the Golgari delegation shambled out of the room. He muttered a quick spell to clear out the fungal-rot smell of the esteemed ambassadors and their zombie attendants.

As soon as the door shut behind them, Jace's smile dropped, and he sat down on the large wooden desk he'd finally gotten around to installing. The desk creaked, and he frowned. He still needed a nice big chair to collapse into. Leather. Something expensive.

"Tell me that was the last for the day," he said.

"I would never perjure myself, even at your order," said his bailiff, Lavinia—rather archly, he thought.

CATCHING UP