Page 21 of Six of Crows (Dregs 1)
“Stay away from me, witch,” Matthias growled at Nina.
Nina gave him a tight nod. “With pleasure.”
She lifted her hands, and Matthias felt his eyelids grow heavy as she dragged him into unconsciousness. “Kill you,” he mumbled.
“Sleep well.” Her voice was a wolf, dogging his steps. It chased him into the dark.
* * *
In a windowless room draped in black and crimson, Matthias listened silently to the strange words coming out of the pale, freakish boy’s mouth. Matthias knew monsters, and one glance at Kaz Brekker had told him this was a creature who had spent too long in the dark—he’d brought something back with him when he’d crawled into the light. Matthias could sense it around him. He knew others laughed at Fjerdan superstition, but he trusted his gut. Or he had, until Nina. That had been one of the worst effects of her betrayal, the way he’d been forced to second-guess himself. That doubt had almost been his undoing at Hellgate, where instinct was everything.
He’d heard Brekker’s name in prison, and the words associated with him—criminal prodigy, ruthless, amoral. They called him Dirtyhands because there was no sin he would not commit for the right price. And now this demon was talking about breaking into the Ice Court, about getting Matthias to commit treason. Again, Matthias corrected himself. I’d be committing treason again.
He kept his eyes on Brekker. He was keenly aware of Nina watching him from the other side of the room. He could still smell her rose perfume in his nose and even in his mouth; the sharp flower scent rested against his tongue, as if he were tasting her.
Matthias had woken bound and tied to a chair in what looked like some kind of gambling parlor. Nina must have brought him out of the stupor she’d placed him in. She was there, along with the bronze girl. Jesper, the long-limbed boy from the boat, sat in a corner with his bony knees drawn up, and a boy with ruddy gold curls doodled aimlessly on a scrap of paper atop a round table made for playing cards, occasionally gnawing on his thumb. The table was covered with a crimson cloth flocked with a repeating pattern of crows, and a wheel similar to the one used in the Hellshow arena but with different markings had been propped against a black lacquered wall. Matthias had the feeling that someone—probably Nina—had tended to more of his injuries while he was unconscious. The thought made him sick. Better clean pain than Grisha corruption.
Then Brekker had started talking—about a drug called jurda parem, about an impossibly high reward, and about the absurd idea of attempting a raid on the Ice Court. Matthias wasn’t sure what might be fact or fiction, but it hardly mattered. When Brekker finally finished, Matthias simply said, “No.”
“Believe me when I say this, Helvar: I know getting knocked out and waking up in strange surroundings isn’t the friendliest way to start a partnership, but you didn’t give us many options, so try to open your mind to the possibilities.”
“You could have come to me on your knees, and my answer would be the same.”
“You do understand I can have you back at Hellgate in a matter of hours? Once poor Muzzen is in the infirmary, the switch will be easy.”
“Do it. I can’t wait to tell the warden your ridiculous plans.”
“What makes you think you’ll be going back with a tongue?”
“Kaz—” Nina protested.
“Do what you want,” Matthias said. He wouldn’t betray his country again.
“I told you,” said Nina.
“Don’t pretend to know me, witch,” he snarled, his eyes trained on Brekker. He wouldn’t look at her. He refused to.
Jesper unfolded himself from the corner. Now that they were out of the Hellgate gloom, Matthias could see he had deep brown Zemeni skin and incongruous gray eyes. He was built like a stork. “Without him, there’s no job,” said Jesper. “We can’t break into the Ice Court blind.”
Matthias wanted to laugh. “You can’t break into the Ice Court at all.” The Ice Court wasn’t an ordinary building. It was a compound, Fjerda’s ancient stronghold, home to an unbroken succession of kings and queens, repository of their greatest treasures and most sacred religious relics. It was impenetrable.
“Come now, Helvar,” said the demon. “Surely there’s something you want. The cause is righteous enough for a zealot like you. Fjerda may think they’ve caught a dragon by the tail, but they won’t be able to hold on. Once Bo Yul-Bayur replicates his process, jurda parem will enter the market, and it’s only a matter of time before others learn to manufacture it, too.”
“It will never happen. Yul-Bayur will stand trial, and if he is found guilty he will be put to death.”
“Guilty of what?” Nina asked softly.
“Crimes against the people.”
“Which people?”
He could hear the barely leashed anger in her voice. “Natural people,” Matthias replied. “People who live in harmony with the laws of this world instead of twisting them for their own gain.”
Nina made a kind of exasperated snorting sound. The others just looked amused, smirking at the poor, backward Fjerdan. Brum had warned Matthias that the world was full of liars, pleasure seekers, faithless heathens. And there seemed to be a concentration of them in this room.
“You’re being shortsighted about this, Helvar,” said Brekker. “Another team could get to Yul-Bayur first. The Shu. Maybe the Ravkans. All with their own agendas. Border disputes and old rivalries don’t matter to the Kerch. All the Merchant Council cares about is trade, and they want to make sure jurda parem remains a rumor and nothing more.”
“So leading criminals into the heart of Fjerda to steal a valued prisoner is a patriotic act?” Matthias said scornfully.
“I don’t suppose the promise of four million kruge will sway you, either.”
Matthias spat. “You can keep your money. Choke on it.” Then a thought came to him—vile, barbaric, but the one thing that might allow him to return to Hellgate with peace in his heart even if he didn’t have a tongue in his head. He tilted back as far as his bonds would permit and focused all his attention on Brekker. “I’ll make a deal with you.”
“I’m listening.”
“I won’t go with you, but I’ll give you a plan for the layout of the Court. That should at least get you past the first checkpoint.”
“And what will this valuable information cost me?”
“I don’t w
ant your money. I’ll give you the plans for nothing.” It shamed Matthias to say the words, but he spoke them anyway. “If you let me kill Nina Zenik.”
The little bronze girl made a sound of disgust, her contempt for him clear, and the boy at the table stopped doodling, his mouth falling open. Kaz, however, didn’t seem surprised. If anything, he looked pleased. Matthias had the uncomfortable sense that the demon had known exactly how this would play out.
“I can give you something better,” said Kaz.
What could be better than revenge? “There’s nothing else I want.”
“I can make you a drüskelle again.”
“Are you a magician, then? A wej sprite who grants wishes? I’m superstitious, not stupid.”
“You can be both, you know, but that’s hardly the point.” Kaz slipped a hand into his dark coat. “Here,” he said, and gave a piece of paper to the bronze girl. Another demon. This one walked with soft feet like she’d drifted in from the next world and no one had the good sense to send her back. She brought the paper up to his face for him to read. The document was written in Kerch and Fjerdan. He couldn’t read Kerch—he’d only picked up the language in prison—but the Fjerdan was clear enough, and as his eyes moved over the page, Matthias’ heart started to pound.
In light of new evidence, Matthias Benedik Helvar is granted full and immediate pardon for all charges of slave trafficking. He is released on this day, ____________, with the apologies of the court, and will be provided transport to his homeland or a destination of his choosing with all possible haste and the sincere apologies of this court and the Kerch government.
“What new evidence?”
Kaz leaned back in his chair. “It seems Nina Zenik has recanted her statements. She will face charges of perjury.”
Now he did look at her; he couldn’t stop it. He’d left bruises on her graceful throat. He told himself to be glad of it.
“Perjury? How long will you serve for that, Zenik?”
“Two months,” she said quietly.
“Two months?” Now he did laugh, long and hard. His body twitched with it, as if it were poison constricting his muscles.
