Page 63 of Six of Crows (Dregs 1)
Inej and Nina shoved the Kaelish into the cupboard and managed to get the doors closed and locked, then yanked on their costumes. Inej was glad she didn’t have time to dwell on the unwelcome familiarity of the silks on her skin, the horrible tinkling of the bells on her anklets. They swept on their capes and took a quick glance in the mirror.
Neither of the costumes fit properly. Inej’s purple silks were far too loose, and as for Nina …
“What the hell is this supposed to be?” she said, looking down at herself. The plunging gown barely covered her substantial cleavage and clung tightly to her buttocks. It had been wrought to look like blue-green scales, giving way to a shimmering chiffon fan.
“Maybe a mermaid?” suggested Inej. “Or a wave?”
“I thought I was a horse.”
“Well they weren’t going to put you in a dress of hooves.”
Nina smoothed her hands over the ridiculous costume. “I’m about to be very popular.”
“I wonder what Matthias would have to say about that outfit.”
“He wouldn’t approve.”
“He doesn’t approve of anything about you. But when you laugh, he perks up like a tulip in fresh water.”
Nina snorted. “Matthias the tulip.”
“The big, brooding, yellow tulip.”
“Are you ready?” Nina asked as they pulled their hoods far down over their faces.
“Yes.” Inej said, and she meant it. “We’ll need a distraction. They’re going to notice four girls went in and only two are coming out.”
“Leave it to me. And watch your hem.”
As soon as they opened the door to the hallway, the guards were waving them over impatiently. Beneath her cape, Nina flicked her fingers hard. One of the guards bleated as her nose began to gush blood down the front of her uniform in absurdly forceful gouts. The other guard recoiled, but in the next instant, she clutched her stomach. Nina was twisting her wrist in a roiling motion, sending waves of nausea through the woman’s system.
“Your hem,” Nina repeated calmly.
Inej barely had time to gather up her cape before the guard bent double and heaved her dinner over the tiled floor. The guests in the hallway shrieked and shoved at each other, trying to get away from the mess. Nina and Inej sailed by, emitting appropriate squeals of disgust.
“The nosebleed probably would have done the trick,” whispered Inej.
“Best to be thorough.”
“If I didn’t know any better, I’d think you liked making Fjerdans suffer.”
They kept their heads down and entered the swell of people filling the rotunda, ignoring the Zemeni fawn who tried to direct them to the other side of the room. It was essential that they not get too close to any of the real Menagerie girls. Inej only wished the cloaks weren’t so easy to track through a crowd.
“This one,” Inej said, steering Nina into a line far from the other members of the Menagerie. It seemed to be moving a bit faster. But when they reached the front of the line, Inej wondered if she’d chosen poorly. This guard seemed even more stern-faced and humorless than the others. He held his hand out for Nina’s papers and scrutinized them with cold blue eyes.
“This description says you have freckles,” he said in Kerch.
“I do,” said Nina smoothly. “They’re just not visible right now. Want to see?”
“No,” the Fjerdan said icily. “You’re taller than described here.”
“Boots,” Nina said. “I like to be able to look a man in the eye. You have very pretty eyes.”
He looked at the paper, then took in her ensemble. “You’re heavier than it says on this paper, I’ll wager.”
She shrugged artfully, the scales of her neckline slipping lower. “I like to eat when I’m in the mood,” she said, puckering her lips shamelessly. “And I’m always in the mood.”
Inej struggled to keep a straight face. If Nina resorted to eyelash batting, she knew she would lose the fight and burst out laughing. But the Fjerdan seemed to be eating it up. Maybe Nina had a stupefying effect on all stalwart northerners.
“Move along,” he said gruffly. Then added, “I … I may be at the party later.”
Nina ran a finger down his arm. “I’ll save you a dance.”
He grinned like a fool, then cleared his throat, and his stern expression fell back into place. Saints, Inej thought, it must be exhausting to be so stolid all the time. He glanced cursorily at Inej’s papers, his mind still clearly on the prospect of unwrapping Nina’s layers of blue-green chiffon. He waved her past, but as Inej stepped forward she stumbled.
“Wait,” said the guard.
She stopped. Nina looked back over her shoulder.
“What’s wrong with your shoes?”
“Just a bit big,” said Inej. “They stretched more than expected.”
“Show me your arms,” the guard said.
“Why?”
“Just do it,” the guard said harshly.
Inej pulled her arms free of the cloak and held them out, displaying the lumpy peacock feather tattoo.
A guard in captain’s stripes wandered over. “What is it?”
“She’s Suli, for sure, and she has the Menagerie tattoo, but it doesn’t look quite right.”
Inej shrugged. “I got a bad burn as a child.”
The captain gestured to a group of annoyed-looking partygoers gathered near the entry and surrounded by guards. “Anyone suspicious goes over there. Put her with them, and we’ll take her back to the checkpoint to have her papers reviewed.”
“I’ll miss the party,” said Inej.
The guard ignored her, seizing her arm and pulling her back toward the entry as the other people in line stared and whispered. Her heart began to pound.
Nina’s face was frightened, pale even beneath her powder, but there was nothing Inej could say to reassure her. She gave her the briefest nod. Go, she thought silently. It’s up to you now.
29
MATTHIAS
NINE BELLS
“What if I say no, Brekker?” It was mere posturing, Matthias kne
w that. The time for protest had long passed. They were already jogging down the gentle slope of the embassy roof toward the drüskelle sector, Wylan panting from exertion, Jesper loping along with ease, and Brekker keeping pace despite his crooked gait and lack of cane. But Matthias disliked how well this low thief could read him. “What if I don’t give you this last bit of myself and my honor?”
“You will, Helvar. Nina is on her way to the White Island right now. Are you really going to leave her stranded?”
“You presume a great deal.”
“Seems like the perfect amount to me.”
“These are the law courts, right?” Jesper said as they raced over the roof, catching glimpses of the elegant courtyards below, each built around a burbling fountain and dotted with rustling ice willows. “I guess if you’re going to be sentenced to death, this isn’t a bad place for it.”
“Water everywhere,” said Wylan. “Do the fountains symbolize Djel?”
“The wellspring,” mused Kaz, “where all sins are washed clean.”
“Or where they drown you and make you confess,” Wylan said.
Jesper snorted. “Wylan, your thoughts have taken a very dark turn. I fear the Dregs may be a bad influence.”
They used a doubled segment of rope and the grappling hook to cross to the roof of the drüskelle sector. Wylan had to be looped into a sling, but Jesper and Kaz moved easily across the rope, hand over hand, with unnerving speed. Matthias approached with more caution, and though he didn’t show it, he did not like the way the rope creaked and bowed with his own weight.
The others pulled him onto the stone of the drüskelle roof, and as Matthias stood, he was struck by a wave of vertigo. More than any place in the Ice Court, more than any place in the world, this felt like home to him. But it was home turned on its head, his life viewed at the wrong angle. Peering into the dark, he saw the massive pyramid skylights that marked the roof. He had the disconcerting sense that if he looked through the glass he would see himself running drills in the training rooms, seated at the long table in the dining hall.
In the distance, he heard the wolves barking and yapping in their kennel by the gatehouse, wondering where their masters had gone for the night. Would they recognize him if he approached with an outstretched hand? He wasn’t sure he recognized himself. On the northern ice, his choices had seemed clear. But now his thoughts were muddied with these thugs and thieves, with Inej’s courage and Jesper’s daring, and with Nina, always Nina. He couldn’t deny the relief he’d felt when she’d emerged from the incinerator shaft, disheveled and gasping, frightened but alive. When he and Wylan had pulled her out of the flue, he’d had to force himself to let her go.
