Panting slightly, she said, "We're ready, Urza Planeswalker."

"Are you ready, Daria Planeswalker?" mocked Urza, his eyebrow hitched ironically. "Take us, then, to the realm of Freyalise."

Canting her head sideways, Daria reached out her hands. "Take hold."

The two ancient planeswalkers rested their hands in hers. The twilight mountainside melted away like watercolors running from a page. Reality puddled and rose again.

It spread itself in a new design, what seemed a vast star burst. It was in fact a huge thistle bloom. Green and gold down extended from a gleaming core. Breezes whispered among the feathery seed pods. Occasionally a stalk tricked free to glide away. No sooner had one tuft floated off than another grew outward.

Beside that enormous bloom, the three planeswalkers floated, as tiny as gnats.

"The Inner Sanctum," Urza said, blinking at the great thistle. "I am not welcome here."

"We are," replied Daria with a quirked smile. Cupping a hand to her mouth, the young woman called: "Freyalise, it is time."

There came no change to the mammoth thistle. No door opened, though a presence emerged from the core of the blossom. Not a single downy tuft shifted. Still, out of a clump of them formed a statuesque woman with delicate, almost fey features. Her blonde hair was shorn short and dyed in the fashion emulated by the Steel Leaf elves. Across her face coiled intricate tattoos in woodland motifs-leaves and flowers whose stems extended down her throat and beneath the white shift she wore. A ring glinted in one nostril, and light mantled her.

Freyalise smiled. Her lips held much the same caprice as Daria's. It was clear these two had become allies in what Urza would call mischief. Still, Freyalise was ancient. She was protector of Fyndhorn and goddess of the Juniper Order, savior of the Llanowar Elves and Patron Lady of the Order of the Steel Leaf. She also was no particular friend of Urza's.

"Time, is it?" asked Freyalise, blinking as if awakening from a dream.

"That's what Daria said," Taysir put in.

"Yes, it is time," Urza answered. "A critical battle is at hand, a dry run for our final target-"

Ignoring Urza, Freyalise extended her hands toward her friends and took them in her arms.

"How are your studies getting on, girl? Your father's a tough master-the minotaurs made him so. No, that's not true. He was tough before the minotaurs. If anything, they rounded his rough edges." Turning to Taysir, she said, "And speaking of rough edges, guess who is visiting me?"

The old man's eyes rolled. He said with infinite resignation, "Kristina."

"Yes!" Freyalise said happily. "Oh, don't tell me you still moon over her."

"No. The Anoba Ancestors took care of that, as well. They said I couldn't have my body back until I 'got shut of the rut.' I did. Get shut. Of the rut."

Freyalise laughed.

"Ahem," Urza interrupted, coughing into his hand.

Freyalise turned. Her eyebrow lifted. "Oh, it's you."

"That's what I said too!" Daria replied happily.

"Planning another Ice Age, Urza?" Freyalise jabbed.

Urza winced. "I might remind you that your spell to end the Ice Age was as devastating as mine-and cast with the same disregard."

"You two…" Taysir said.

Urza continued, "I understand you have no love for me. I expect none. But you have love for the world and its creatures, and that's why we've come. We are sworn-even that bastard Szat-to fight for Dominaria. That's why we come together."

Freyalise strolled easily across the air until she stood before him. "I don't remember your swearing to fight for Dominaria, only against Phyrexia."

"There is no difference," Urza said.

Again came the laugh. "If you had any inkling why that was funny, you might understand why we have so little love for you." She shrugged. "Oh, well. It is time." Her eyes closed for a moment. The air around her shimmered with a silent conversation. "Kristina will be right out."

"Kristina?"

"You need eight planeswalkers to power these contraptions of yours, right?" Freyalise asked. "Kristina is a planeswalker. Get rid of Szat."

Urza shook his head. "No, I need Szat. I'll get rid of Parcher. He's a bit of a lunatic."

"A bit?" said Freyalise and Daria in unison. They traded glances, and Freyalise said, "This is going to be more fun than I thought."

Another presence shimmered into being. Kristina had deeply tanned skin and long brown hair done up with beads. She had the angular intensity of a mage and the presence of an oracle. Taking shape beside Taysir, she took his hand in hers. Her voice was mellifluous and low.

"So good to see you again, Taysir. We'll be seeing much of each other in the next months."

He bowed in midair. "Nothing would make me more glad."

Feeling vaguely sick, Urza swept his arm in a broad gesture over the floating assemblage of planeswalkers. The thistledown Inner Sanctum of Freyalise melted away.

A stiff salt breeze burst over them, flung up from fifteen-foot billows. Beyond the rails, the sea was black beneath the Glimmer Moon. Clouds dragged rags across the sky. A deck of rugged wood solidified beneath the feet of the company. The ship ran lightless through midnight seas. The pirate ship was immediately familiar to them all.

"Bo Levar?" Freyalise asked dubiously. "The cigar smuggler?"

Urza blinked, his gemstone eyes glimmering in the dark. "He prefers 'interplanar merchant.' After all, the laws of continental embargo should not extend between worlds."

"Whatever his title, he's a patriot," Taysir said, licking his lips. "I hope he has a crate of Urborgan maduros."

"You bet," said Bo Levar, leaping down from the dark stern castle to light among the planeswalkers. He wore the aspect of a young man, with sandy hair and a trim mustache and goatee. "You can have two. The rest are bound for Mercadia. The Ramosians have gotten really fond of them."

"It's time," Urza said.

"You're telling me," Bo replied, shaking his head. "It was easy enough to run a Benalish blockade, but these Phyrexian plague ships aren't as friendly." He sighed. "Still, business can't wait. I'll take these to the Outer Sea of

Mercadia, give instructions to my crew, and meet you all- where?"

"At Tolaria, in the Phyrexian rift."

Bo made a gagging face. "You're still working in that stink hole?"

"It's fast time," Urza replied defensively. "I get ten days inside for each one outside."

"Yeah, but it stinks," Bo said. "I'll bring a crate of candellas to cut the air."

Urza clapped his shoulder genuinely. "It is good to have you with us." Spreading his arm toward the others, he said, "We'll see you there momentarily."

Even as Bo Levar replied, midnight sky and ocean swell and the ship between them faded from being.

In their place, a great library formed. Shelves ran away into infinity. Their edges curved in the blue distance. It was said one who walked a straight line through the Library of Commodore Guff would end up walking in his own footsteps. More frightening still, every volume in that infinite place was the history of some place in the multiverse, and the old commodore had read them all.

As the planeswalkers materialized among the books, Commodore Guff himself appeared. He had a raft of reddish-blond hair, an aggressive beard and eyebrows, and an intent eye behind his monocle. The glass fell from his eye and dropped into the book he held. In the same motion Commodore Guff's mouth fell open.

"Are you here to borrow or to return?"

"It's time," Urza said simply.

Commodore Guff scowled. "No…" From the red vest he wore, the man fished out a pocket watch-a device the young Urza had fashioned as an apprentice in Yotia. "Well, bother. It is time."

Daria gave him a dubious look. "You don't even know what we're talking about."