The Morning After Ratepe Arrives
This is post 12 of a chapter-by-chapter retelling of “Planeswalker” by Lynn Abbey, Book II of the Artifact Cycle in Magic: The Gathering.
Previous: Urza Builds a New Dragon Engine
Bacon Diplomacy
Chapter 11 picks up in the present. Xantcha hasn’t slept. She’s been up all night listening to voices through the wall, checking the supplies twice, drinking a whole pot of tea that did nothing to calm her nerves. At dawn, she makes her move. She builds a fire outside and fries bacon.
If Ratepe is alive, he’ll smell it and come out.
Right on schedule, the door opens. “By the book! That smells good.”
He survived. And he’s practically vibrating with excitement.
Ratepe Loses It (A Little)
This is where things get messy. Ratepe is running on adrenaline and zero sleep. He’s babbling. He keeps saying “I’m Mishra” with this wide-eyed intensity that scares Xantcha more than anything Urza has done.
“He is Urza, the Urza, Urza the Artificer. I’m Mishra. I’m talking to a legend, watching things, hearing things I can’t imagine.”
Xantcha grabs him by the neck of his tunic and slams him against a porch post hard enough to shake debris from the thatching.
“You are not Mishra, you merely pretend to be Mishra. You are Ratepe, son of Mideah, and the day you forget that will be the day you die.”
It’s exactly the wake-up call he needs. And honestly, it shows how much Xantcha cares. She’s not just annoyed. She’s terrified for him.
The Weakstone’s Song
Once Ratepe calms down, he reveals something that changes everything. The Weakstone, one of the two Thran powerstones that are now Urza’s eyes, talked to him. Not in words exactly. More like feelings, impressions, knowledge that just appeared in his mind when he looked at Urza’s left eye.
“It told me what it was and that it had been waiting for someone who could hear it.”
When Urza mentioned Harbin not being his son, the Weakstone gave Ratepe a sensation “like the feeling that comes after pain.” And through that stone, he felt what Mishra thought. What Mishra would have said. His own words, but Mishra’s intent.
This is wild. Ratepe isn’t just a good actor. He has an actual psychic connection to the Weakstone, which carries some echo of Mishra’s consciousness. He can channel the dead brother’s thoughts and feelings when he looks into Urza’s eyes.
And he’s scared. “Pretending to be Mishra, the way you asked me to, it’s not pretend. I could get lost. I could wind up thinking I am Mishra before this is over.”
Xantcha has no reassurance to give. She didn’t know about the singing. She knew the eyes were powerstones. She didn’t know they could do this.
The Phyrexian Truth
This leads to the conversation where Xantcha finally admits everything. She recites the first lesson she learned from the vat-priests, in Phyrexian. “Newts you are, and newts you shall remain. Obey and learn. Pay attention. Make no mistakes.” The sounds are squeals, squeaks, and chattering. Not a human language at all.
Ratepe gapes. Then he asks the question that’s been hanging over them.
Urza called Xantcha “she” when talking to Ratepe. So what is Xantcha?
“Neither,” she says.
Phyrexian has no words for man or woman. No families. No need for those concepts. Xantcha only started thinking of herself as “she” after a demon invaded her mind. Not Urza. Long before Urza.
Ratepe asks if she and Urza are… together. And Xantcha actually laughs. “Urza? You did read The Antiquity Wars, didn’t you? Urza didn’t even notice Kayla Bin-Kroog!”
The Fight and the Apology
There’s a sharp exchange where Ratepe throws Xantcha’s Phyrexian origin in her face. His father told him never to trust someone who fights against their own kin. Betrayal is a habit.
Xantcha fires back with something crueler. “Your father is dead.”
Ratepe walks away. Xantcha eats the burnt bacon alone and retreats to her room. Hours later, there’s a knock. Nobody has knocked on her door in three thousand years. The surprise alone lifts her onto her elbows before she can pretend to be asleep.
“I’m sorry. I’m angry and I’m scared and just plain stupid. You’re the closest I’ve got to a friend right now.”
He offers his hand. She knows the gesture. Smile when happy, frown when sad, offer your open hand for trust. It’s the same across every world she’s visited. As if born-folk arrive knowing these signals.
She takes his hand.
Urza’s Gone
Then Ratepe drops another bomb. Urza vanished. His room is empty. His table is clean, which Xantcha says has never happened before. He’s gone planeswalking.
Ratepe admits he told Urza about Efuan Pincar. About the Shratta and the Red-Stripes and the Phyrexians infiltrating both sides. Urza seemed interested. He asked questions. Ratepe told him to visit the temples in Pincar City.
Xantcha would have told him to wait. But she can’t blame Ratepe for doing what seemed right. This is the new dynamic. She’s not in control anymore. She never really was. Now there are three people in this relationship, and two of them are behind a door she can’t open.
“There’s no second-guessing Urza the Artificer,” she tells Ratepe as she walks out.
He chases after her. “What do we do now?”
“We wait.”
My Take
Chapter 11 is a conversation chapter, and it’s one of the best in the book. Every exchange reveals something important. The Weakstone singing to Ratepe. Xantcha’s Phyrexian origins spoken out loud. The fact that Urza can read minds if he wants to. The question of gender that Xantcha handles with blunt practicality.
But the emotional core is the fight and the apology. These two people have known each other for maybe three weeks. They’ve been through a rescue, a flight across a continent, and the most dangerous deception imaginable. And when they hurt each other with words, Ratepe is the one who comes back and says sorry. Nobody has knocked on Xantcha’s door in millennia. That one small gesture means more than anything Urza has ever done for her.