Page 17 of Six of Crows (Dregs 1)
Nina dug her fingernails into her palms. That condescending tone made Kaz so slappable.
She knew Pekka Rollins’ name well. He was the reigning king of the Barrel, the owner of not one but two gambling palaces—one luxurious, the other catering to sailors with less to line their pockets—and several of the higher-end brothels. When Nina had arrived in Ketterdam a year ago, she’d been friendless, penniless, and far from home. She’d spent the first week in the Kerch law courts, dealing with the charges against Matthias. But once her testimony was complete, she’d been unceremoniously dumped at First Harbor with just enough money to book passage back to Ravka. Desperate as she’d been to return to her country, she’d known she couldn’t leave Matthias to languish in Hellgate.
She had no idea what to do, but it seemed rumors of a new Grisha Corporalnik in Ketterdam had already circulated through the city. Pekka Rollins’ men had been waiting for her at the harbor with the promise of safety and a place to stay. They’d taken her to the Emerald Palace, where Pekka himself had leaned heavily on Nina to join the Dime Lions and had offered to set her up in business at the Sweet Shop. She’d been close to saying yes, desperate for cash and terrified of the slavers who patrolled the streets. But that night, Inej had crawled through her window on the top floor of the Emerald Palace with a proposal from Kaz Brekker in hand.
Nina never could figure out how Inej had managed to scale six rain-slick stories of stone in the middle of the night, but the Dregs’ terms were far more favorable than those offered by Pekka and the Dime Lions. It was a contract that she might actually pay off in a year or two if she was smart with her money. And Kaz had sent the right person to argue his case—a Suli girl just a few months younger than Nina who had grown up in Ravka and who had spent a very ugly year indentured at the Menagerie.
“What can you tell me about Per Haskell?” Nina had asked that night.
“Not much,” Inej had admitted. “He’s no better or worse than most of the bosses in the Barrel.”
“And Kaz Brekker?”
“A liar, a thief, and utterly without conscience. But he’ll keep to any deal you strike with him.”
Nina had heard the conviction in her voice. “He freed you from the Menagerie?”
“There is no freedom in the Barrel, only good terms. Tante Heleen’s girls never earn out of their contracts. She makes sure they don’t. She—” Inej had broken off then, and Nina had sensed the vibrant anger coursing through her. “Kaz convinced Per Haskell to pay off my indenture. I would have died at the Menagerie.”
“You may still die in the Dregs.”
Inej’s dark eyes had glinted. “I may. But I’ll die on my feet with a knife in my hand.”
The next morning, Inej had helped Nina sneak out of the Emerald Palace. They’d met with Kaz Brekker, and despite his cold ways and those strange leather gloves, she’d agreed to join the Dregs and work out of the White Rose. Less than two days later, a girl died at the Sweet Shop, strangled in her bed by a customer dressed as Mister Crimson who was never found.
Nina had trusted Inej, and she hadn’t been sorry for it, though right now she just felt furious with everyone. She watched a group of Dime Lions prod the desert lizard with long spears. Apparently, the monster was sated after its meal; it allowed itself to be herded back to the tunnel, its thick body moving side to side in a lazy, sinuous roll.
The crowd continued to boo as guards entered the arena to remove the prisoner’s remains, tendrils of smoke still curling from his ruined flesh.
“Why are they complaining?” Nina asked angrily. “Isn’t this what they came here for?”
“They wanted a fight,” said Kaz. “They were expecting him to last longer.”
“This is disgusting.”
Kaz shrugged. “Only disgusting thing about it is that I didn’t think of it first.”
“These men aren’t slaves, Kaz. They’re prisoners.”
“They’re murderers and rapists.”
“And thieves and con artists. Your people.”
“Nina, sweet, they aren’t forced to fight. They line up for the chance. They earn better food, private cells, liquor, jurda, conjugals with girls from West Stave.”
Muzzen cracked his knuckles. “Sounds better than we got it at the Slat.”
Nina looked at the people screaming and shouting, the barkers walking the aisles taking bets. The prisoners of Hellgate might line up to fight, but Pekka Rollins made the real money.
“Helvar doesn’t … Helvar doesn’t fight in the arena, does he?”
“We aren’t here for the ambience,” Kaz said.
Beyond slappable. “Are you aware that I could waggle my fingers and make you wet your trousers?”
“Easy, Heartrender. I like these trousers. And if you start messing with my vital organs, Matthias Helvar will never see sunshine again.”
Nina blew out a breath and settled for glowering at no one.
“Nina—” Inej murmured.
“Don’t you start in on me.”
“It will all work out. Let Kaz do what he does best.”
“He’s horrible.”
“But effective. Being angry at Kaz for being ruthless is like being angry at a stove for being hot. You know what he is.”
Nina crossed her arms. “I’m mad at you, too.”
“Me? Why?”
“I don’t know yet. I just am.”
Inej gave Nina’s hand a brief squeeze, and after a moment, Nina squeezed back. She sat through the next fight in a daze, and the next. She told herself she was ready for this—to see him again, to see him here in this brutal place. After all, she was a Grisha and a soldier of the Second Army. She’d seen worse.
But when Matthias emerged from the mouth of the cave below, she knew she’d been wrong. Nina recognized him instantly. Every night of the past year, she had fallen asleep thinking of Matthias’ face. There was no mistaking the gilded brows, the sharp cut of his cheekbones. But Kaz hadn’t lied: Matthias was much changed. The boy who looked back at the crowd with fury in his eyes was a stranger.
Nina remembered the first time she’d seen Matthias in a moo
nlit Kaelish wood. His beauty had seemed unfair to her. In another life, she might have believed he was coming to rescue her, a shining savior with golden hair and eyes the pale blue of northern glaciers. But she’d known the truth of him by the language he spoke, and by the disgust on his face every time his eyes lighted on her. Matthias Helvar was a drüskelle, one of the Fjerdan witchhunters tasked with hunting down Grisha to face trial and execution, though to her he’d always resembled a warrior Saint, illuminated in gold.
Now he looked like what he truly was: a killer. His bare torso seemed hewn from steel, and though she knew it wasn’t possible, he seemed bigger, as if the very structure of his body had changed. His skin had been gilded honey; now it was fish-belly white beneath the grime. And his hair—he’d had such beautiful hair, thick and golden, worn long in the way of Fjerdan soldiers. Now, like the other prisoners, his head had been shaved, probably to prevent lice. Whichever guard had done it had made a mess of the job. Even from this distance, she could see the cuts and nicks on his scalp, and little strips of blond stubble in the places the razor had missed. And yet, he was beautiful still.
He glared at the crowd and gave the wheel a hard spin that nearly knocked it off its base.
Tick tick tick tick. Snakes. Tiger. Bear. Boar. The wheel ticked merrily along, then slowed and finally stopped.
“No,” Nina said when she saw where the needle was pointing.
“It could be worse,” said Muzzen. “Could have landed on the desert lizard again.”
She grabbed Kaz’s arm through his cloak and felt his muscles tense. “You have to stop this.”
“Let go of me, Nina.” His gravel-rough voice was low, but she sensed real menace in it.
She dropped her hand, “Please, you don’t understand. He—”
“If he survives, I’ll take Matthias Helvar out of this place tonight, but this part is up to him.”
Nina gave a frustrated shake of her head. “You don’t get it.”
The guard unbolted Matthias’ shackles, and as soon as the chains dropped into the sand, he leapt onto the ladder with the announcer to be lifted to safety. The crowd screamed and stamped. But Matthias stood silent, unmoving, even when the gate opened, even when the wolves charged out of the tunnel—three of them snarling and snapping, tumbling over one another to get to him.
