“Are you afraid, Wraith?” Inej felt Dunyasha’s knife shred through her sleeve. The sting of the blade was like a burning lash. Not too deep , she told herself. Unless of course the blade was poisoned. “I think you are. You cannot fear death and be its true emissary.”
Was the girl mad? Or just chatty? Inej bobbed backward, moving in a circle around the silo’s roof.
“I was born without fear,” Dunyasha continued with a happy chuckle. “My parents thought I would drown because I crawled into the sea as a baby, laughing.”
“Perhaps they worried you would talk yourself to death.”
Her opponent drove forward with new intensity, and Inej wondered if the girl had only been toying with her in that first aggressive flurry, feeling for her strengths and weaknesses before she seized the advantage. They exchanged thrusts, but Dunyasha was fresh. Inej could feel every ache and injury and trial of the last month in her body—the knife wound that had almost killed her, the trip up the incinerator, the days she’d spent bound in captivity.
“I confess to disappointment,” Dunyasha said as her feet skipped nimbly over the silo’s roof. “I had hoped you might prove a challenge. But what do I find? A smudge of a Suli acrobat who fights like a common street thug.”
It was true. Inej had learned her technique from boys like Kaz and Jesper in the alleys and crooked streets of Ketterdam. Dunyasha didn’t have just one mode of attack. She bent like a reed when required, stalked forward like a prowling cat, retreated like smoke. She had no single style that Inej could grasp or predict.
She’s better than me. The knowledge had the taste of rot, as if Inej had bitten into a tempting fruit and found it foul. It wasn’t just the difference in their training. Inej had learned to fight because she had to if she wanted to survive. She’d wept the night she’d made her first kill. This girl was enjoying herself.
But Ketterdam had taught Inej well. If you couldn’t beat the odds, you changed the game. Inej waited for her opponent to lunge, then leapt past her onto the wire stretched between the silos, moving recklessly across it. The wind reached out for her, eager now, sensing opportunity. She considered using the balance pole, but she wanted her hands free.
She felt the wire wobble. Impossible. But when she looked back over her shoulder, Dunyasha had followed her out onto the high wire. She was grinning, her white skin glowing as if she’d swallowed the moon.
Dunyasha’s hand shot out and Inej gasped as something sharp lodged in her calf. She bent backward, taking the wire in her hands, and flipped her stance so that she was facing her opponent. The girl’s wrist snapped out again. Inej felt another bright stab of pain, and when she looked down, she saw a spiked metal star protruding from her thigh.
From somewhere below, she heard shouting, the sounds of a fight. Nina. Who or what had Jan Van Eck sent after her? But she could not afford distraction, not on the wire, not faced with this creature.
“I hear you whored for the Peacock,” Dunyasha said as she flung another spiked star at Inej, and another. Inej avoided both, but took the next in the meat of her right shoulder. She was bleeding badly. “I would have killed myself and everyone beneath that roof before letting myself be used in such a way.”
“You’re being used now,” Inej replied. “Van Eck isn’t worthy of your skill.”
“If you must know, Pekka Rollins pays my wages,” said the girl, and Inej’s footsteps faltered. Rollins. “He pays for my travel, my lodgings. But I ask no money for the lives I take. They are the jewels I wear. They are my glory in this world and will bring me honor in the next.”
Pekka Rollins. Had he somehow found Kaz? The others? What if Nina was lying dead below? Inej had to get free of this girl. She had to help them. Another silver star came whirring at her and she bent left to avoid it, almost lost her balance. She danced backward on the wire, glimpsed another glint of silver. Pain lanced through her arm and she hissed in a breath.
Our work is death and it is holy. What dark god did this mercenary serve? Inej imagined some vast deity looming above the city, faceless and featureless, skin taut over its swollen limbs, fattened on the blood of its acolytes’ victims. She could feel its presence, the chill of its shadow.
A star lodged in Inej’s shin, another in her forearm. She glanced over her shoulder. Only ten more feet and she would be at the first silo. Dunyasha might know more about fighting than Inej ever would, but she didn’t know Ketterdam. Inej would race to the bottom of the silo, find Nina. They’d lose this monster in the streets and canals Inej knew so well.
Again, she gauged the distance behind her. Just a few more feet. But when she looked back, Dunyasha was no longer on the wire. Inej saw her bend, saw her hand reach for the magnet. No.
“Protect me,” she whispered to her Saints.
The line went slack. Inej fell, twisting in the air the way she had as a child, searching for her wings.
K az heard a roaring in his ears. As always, he experienced a strange kind of doubling when he looked at Rollins, as if he’d been up too late and had far too much to drink. The man before him was Pekka Rollins, king of the Barrel, gang lord and impresario. But he was also Jakob Hertzoon, the supposedly upstanding merch who had fed Kaz and Jordie on comfort and confidence, then taken their money and left them helpless in a city that put no value on mercy.
Any sign of the respectable Jakob Hertzoon was gone tonight. Rollins wore a green-striped waistcoat snugly buttoned over the beginnings of a gut and trousers with an emerald sheen. Apparently, he’d replaced the watch Kaz had stolen from him, because he took out a new one and glanced at it now.
“This thing never keeps time quite right,” Rollins said, giving the watch a shake, his sideburns quivering slightly as he breathed an exasperated sigh, “but I can’t resist a fine bit of shine. Don’t suppose you kept the one you took off me?” Kaz said nothing. “Well,” Rollins continued with a shrug, snapping the watch shut and returning it to his waistcoat pocket. “Right about now, my lieutenants should be rounding up your crew and a certain priceless hostage at Black Veil Island.”
Wylan released a distressed sound.
“I’ve also prepared something special for the Wraith,” said Rollins. “An extraordinary asset, that girl. I didn’t like the thought of that particular arrow in your quiver, so I found someone even more extraordinary to take care of her.”
A sick sensation settled in Kaz’s stomach. He thought of Inej rolling her shoulders, the tidy frame of her body brimming with confidence. I don’t work with a net.
“Did you really think you’d be that hard to find, Brekker? I’ve been at this game a long time. All I had to do was think what I’d have done when I was younger and more foolish.”
The roaring in Kaz’s ears grew louder. “You’re working for Van Eck.” He’d known it was a possibility, but he’d ignored it. He’d thought that if he moved fast enough, they wouldn’t have time to form an alliance.
“I’m working with Van Eck. After you came to me looking for cash, I had a feeling he might have need of my services. He was hesitant at first, hasn’t had the best luck making deals with Barrel boys. But that little stunt you pulled with his wife drove him right into my loving arms. I told Van Eck you’d always be a step ahead of him because he can’t help thinking like a businessman.”
Kaz nearly flinched. Hadn’t he had the very same thought?
“He’s a savvy one, no doubt,” continued Rollins, “but a man of limited imagination. Whereas you, Brekker, think like a villainous little thug. You’re me with a lot more hair and a lot less style. Van Eck thought he had you all tied up on West Stave, felt pretty good about calling in the stadwatch too. But I knew you’d be more slippery than that.”
“And you knew I’d come here?”
Rollins chuckled. “I knew you couldn’t resist it. Oh, I didn’t know what plan you’d concoct, but I knew whatever scheme you devised would bring you here. You couldn’t pass up the chance to humiliate Van Eck, to take back what you think he owes you.�
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“The deal is the deal.”
Rollins shook his head, clucking like a big mother hen. “You take things too personally, Brekker. You should be focused on the job, but you’re too busy holding a grudge.”
“That’s where you’re wrong,” said Kaz. “I don’t hold a grudge. I cradle it. I coddle it. I feed it fine cuts of meat and send it to the best schools. I nurture my grudges, Rollins.”
“I’m glad you’ve kept your sense of humor, lad. Once you’ve served your term in stir—assuming Van Eck lets you live—I might just let you come work for me. Shame to see a talent like yours go to waste.”
“I’d rather be cooked slow on a spit with Van Eck turning the handle.”
Rollins’ smile was magnanimous. “I imagine that can be arranged too. I’m nothing if not accommodating.” Just keep talking , Kaz urged silently, his hand slipping inside Wylan’s satchel.
“What makes you think Van Eck will honor his agreement with you any more than he did with us?”
“Because I have the sense to get cash up front. And my demands are decidedly more moderate. A few million kruge to rid the Barrel of a nuisance I’d like to see gone anyway? Most reasonable.” Rollins hooked his thumbs into his waistcoat. “Fact is, Van Eck and I understand each other. I’m expanding, growing my territory, thinking bigger. The Kaelish Prince is the finest establishment East Stave has ever seen, and it’s only the beginning. Van Eck and I are builders. We want to create something that outlasts us. You’ll grow into it, boy. Now hand over that seal and come quietly, why don’t you?”
Kaz pulled the seal from his pocket, held it up, letting it catch the lamplight, drawing Pekka’s gaze. He hesitated.
“Come now, Brekker. You’re tough, I confess, but I’ve got you cornered and outnumbered. You can’t make the drop from that window, and Van Eck has stadwatch lining the street below. You’re done for, toasted, swinging in the wind, so don’t do anything foolish.”
But if you couldn’t open a door, you just had to make a new one. Rollins was easy to get talking; in fact, Kaz doubted he could stop him if he wanted to. Then it was just a question of keeping Rollins’ eyes on the shiny golden seal in Kaz’s right hand while he opened the jar of auric acid with the left.
“Get ready,” he murmured.
“Kaz—” Wylan protested.
Kaz tossed the seal to Rollins and in the same motion splashed the remaining acid onto the floor. The room filled with heat and the carpet hissed as a plume of acrid smoke rose from it.
“Stop them!” Rollins shouted.
“See you on the other side,” said Kaz. He grabbed his cane and smashed it into the boards beneath their feet. The floor gave way with a groan.
They crashed through to the first floor in a cloud of plaster and dust, right onto a dinner table that collapsed beneath their weight.
Candlesticks and dishes went rolling. Kaz sprang to his feet, cane in his hand, gravy dripping from his coat, then hauled Wylan up beside him.
He had a brief moment to register the startled expressions of the merchers around the table, their mouths wide with shock, napkins still in their laps. Then Van Eck was screaming, “Seize them!” and Kaz and Wylan were leaping over a fallen ham and sprinting down the black-and-white-tiled hall.
Two liveried guards stepped in front of the glass-paneled doors that opened onto the back garden, lifting their rifles.
Kaz put on a spurt of speed and dropped into a slide. He braced his cane horizontally across his chest and shot between the guards, letting the cane bash into their shins, knocking them from their feet.
Wylan trailed after him, tumbling down the stairs into the garden. Then they were at the boathouse, over the railing, and into the gondel Rotty had kept waiting in the canal.
A bullet pinged into the side of the boat as gunfire peppered the water around them. He and Rotty seized their oars.
“Drop heavy,” Kaz shouted, and Wylan let loose with every rocket, flash bomb, and bit of demo he’d been able to fit into the boat. The sky above the Van Eck house exploded in an array of light, smoke, and sound as the guards dove for cover.
Kaz put his arms to work, feeling the boat slide into the current as they passed into the glittering traffic of the Geldcanal.
“In and out without him ever knowing?” said Rotty.
“I was half right,” growled Kaz.
“We have to warn the others,” Wylan gasped. “Rollins said—”
“Pekka Rollins was there?” Rotty asked, and Kaz heard the fear in his voice. A canal rat would take on a thousand thugs and thieves, merchers and mercenaries, but not Pekka Rollins.
Kaz tipped one of his oars, steering the boat starboard and barely missing a browboat full of tourists.
“We have to go back to Black Veil. The others—”
“Shut up, Wylan, I need to think.”
Jesper and Matthias were both good in a fight. If anyone had a chance of getting Kuwei off Black Veil, they did. But how had Pekka found them? Someone must have been followed to the island. They’d all taken risks that day, ventured away from Black Veil. Any one of them might have been spotted and pursued. Nina and Matthias? Wylan and Jesper? Kaz himself? Once Pekka had located their hideout, he would have kept them under surveillance every minute, just waiting for them to separate and make themselves vulnerable.
Kaz flexed his shoulders, and Rotty matched his pace, the strokes of their oars driving the boat forward faster through the current. He needed to get them into traffic and as far away from Van Eck’s house as possible. He needed to get to Sweet Reef. Rollins’ men would have followed Inej and Nina there from Black Veil. Why had he sent them to the silos alone? Nina and her precious refugees. There would be no grand rescue for the Grisha tonight. All their chances were shot to hell. I’ve also prepared something special for the Wraith. To hell with revenge, to hell with his schemes. If Rollins had done something to Inej, Kaz would paint East Stave with his entrails.
Think. When one plan was blown, you made a new one. When they backed you into a corner, you cut a hole in the roof. But he couldn’t fix something he couldn’t catch hold of. The plan had gone slippery. He’d failed them. He’d failed her. All because he seemed to have some kind of blind spot where Pekka Rollins was concerned. Jesper could be dead already. Inej could be bleeding on the streets of Sweet Reef.
He turned his oars. “We’re going to the warehouse district.”
“What about the others?”
“Jesper and Matthias are fighters, and there’s no way Pekka’s going to risk harming Kuwei. We’re going to Sweet Reef.”
“You said we’d be safe on Black Veil,” Wylan protested. “You said—”
“There is no safe ,” Kaz snarled. “Not in the Barrel. Not anywhere.” He threw his strength into rowing. No seal. No ship. Their money spent.
“What do we do now?” Wylan said quietly, his voice barely audible above the sound of the water and the other boats on the canal.
“Pick up a pair of oars and make yourself useful,” said Kaz. “Or I’ll put your pampered ass in the drink and let your father fish you out.”
N ina heard them before she saw them. She was positioned between the second and third silos, where she could watch Inej’s progress and keep an eye on the guardhouse.
Inej had climbed the silo like a tiny, nimble spider moving at a pace that made Nina tired just watching her. The angle was steep enough that she could barely see Inej once she’d reached the top, so Nina couldn’t tell what progress she was making with the hatch. But Inej didn’t start crossing when Nina gave the first signal, so she must have had some delay with the lines or with the weevil. At the second signal, Nina saw her step out over nothing.
From where Nina waited, the high wire was invisible in the dark, and it looked as if Inej was levitating, each step precise, considered. There—the faintest wobble. Now—a small correction. Nina’s heart beat a skittering rhythm as she watched. She had the absurd feeling that if she let her own focus waver for even a
second, Inej might fall, as if Nina’s concentration and faith were helping keep her aloft.
When Inej finally reached the second silo, Nina wanted to cheer, but she settled for a brief, silent dance. Then she waited for the guards to come back into view on the western side of the perimeter. They stopped at the guardhouse for a few minutes and set out again. Nina was about to signal Inej when she heard the sound of rowdy laughter. The guards noticed too, suddenly alert. Nina saw one of them ignite the signal lantern atop the guardhouse to call reinforcements—a precautionary measure in case of trouble. Riots had been known to happen, and with the chaos in West Stave the previous day, Nina wasn’t surprised the guards were quick to call for help.
It seemed they might need it. Nina knew a crew of Barrel thugs when she saw one, and this seemed like a nasty lot, all of them large, thickly muscled, and heavily armed. Most of them had guns, a sure sign they were looking for more than a scuffle. The one in the lead wore a checked waist-coat across his broad chest and was swinging a chain in his hands. On his forearm, Nina could see a circular tattoo. She couldn’t make out the details from this distance, but she would have bet good money that it was a lion curled into a crown. The Dime Lions. Pekka Rollins’ boys. What the hell were they doing here?
Nina glanced up. Inej would be putting the weevil in the second silo. Hopefully she was out of their view. But just what did Pekka’s gang want?
The answer came moments later. “Heard there was a Heartrender hiding out in Sweet Reef,” said the boy in the checked waistcoat loudly, still swinging that chain.
Oh, Saints, that’s bad. Had the Dime Lions followed her and Inej from Black Veil? Were the others in trouble? And what if Pekka Rollins and his gang knew about the Grisha at the embassy? Some of them were violating their indentures by trying to leave the city. They could be blackmailed or worse. Pekka could sell them to the Shu. You have your own problems right now, Zenik , said a voice in her head. Stop worrying about saving the world and save your own ass. Sometimes her inner voice could be very wise.
Crooked Kingdom: Book 2 (Six of Crows) Page 29