Page 73 of Six of Crows (Dregs 1)
“Only the vault. There are Grisha here.” And guards. And Matthias’ mentor. Nina would have gladly let Brum die, but though Matthias had betrayed his commander, she doubted he’d want to see the man who’d become a se
cond father to him blown to bits. Her heart rebelled when she thought of the Grisha she’d be leaving behind, but there was no way to get them to the harbor.
“Leave the rest,” she said to Matthias and Kuwei. “We need to move.”
Kuwei arranged a series of vials full of liquid over the burners. “I’m ready.”
They checked the corridor and hurried toward the treasury entrance. At every turn she expected to see drüskelle or guards storming their way, but they charged through the halls unimpeded. At the main door, they paused.
“There’s a hedge maze to our left,” Nina said.
Matthias nodded. “We’ll use it for cover then make a run for the ash.”
As soon as they opened the door, the clamor of the bells became almost unbearable. Nina could see the Elderclock on the highest silvery spire of the palace, its face glowing like a moon. Bright lights from the guard towers moved across the White Island, and Nina could hear the shouts of soldiers closing in around the palace.
She clung to the side of the building, following Matthias, trying to keep to the shadows.
“Hurry,” Kuwei said with a nervous glance back at the lab.
“This way,” Matthias said. “The maze—”
“Halt!” someone shouted.
Too late. Guards were racing toward them from the direction of the maze. There was nothing to do but run. They bolted past the entrance to the colonnade and into the circular courtyard. There were drüskelle everywhere—in front of them, behind them. Any moment they’d be gunned down.
That was when the explosion hit. Nina felt it before she heard it: A wave of heat lifted her off her feet and tossed her in the air, chased by a deafening boom. She came down hard on the white paving stones.
Everything was smoke and chaos. Nina struggled to her knees, ears ringing. One side of the treasury had been reduced to rubble, smoke and dust billowing into the night sky.
Matthias was already striding toward her with Kuwei. She pushed to her feet.
“Sten!” cried two guards breaking off from another group running in the direction of the treasury. “What’s your business here?”
“We were just enjoying the party!” Nina exclaimed, letting all of her real exhaustion and terror fill her voice. “And then … then…” It was embarrassingly easy to let the tears flow.
He held up his gun. “Show me your papers.”
“No papers, Lars.”
The witchhunter’s head snapped up as Matthias stepped forward. “Do I know you?”
“You did once, though I looked a bit different. Hje marden, Lars?”
“Helvar?” he asked. “They … they said you were dead.”
“I was.”
Lars looked from Matthias to Nina. “This is the Heartrender Brum brought to the treasury.” Then he took in Kuwei’s presence, and understanding struck. “Traitor,” he snarled at Matthias.
Nina raised her hand to drop Lars’ pulse, but as she did, she caught movement in the shadows to her right. She cried out as something struck her. When she looked down, she saw loops of cable closing over her, binding her upper arms tight to her body. She couldn’t raise her hands. She couldn’t use her power. Matthias grunted, and Kuwei screamed as cables lashed from the darkness, snapping around their torsos, binding their arms.
“This is what we do, bloodletter,” sneered Lars. “We hunt filth like you. We know all of your tricks.” He kicked Matthias’ legs from beneath him. Matthias went to his knees and sucked in a breath. “They told us you were dead. We mourned you, burned boughs of ash for you. But now I see they were protecting us from something worse. Matthias Helvar, a traitor, aiding our enemies, consorting with unnaturals.” He spat in Matthias’ face. “How could you betray your country and your god?”
“Djel is the god of life, not death.”
“Are there others here for Yul-Bayur besides you and this creature?”
“No,” lied Nina.
“I didn’t ask you, witch,” said Lars. “It doesn’t matter. We’ll get the information from you our own way.” He turned to Kuwei. “And you. Don’t think there won’t be repercussions.”
He made a signal in the air. From the shadows of the colonnade a row of men and boys emerged: drüskelle, hoods drawn up over long golden hair that glinted at their collars, dressed in black and silver, like creatures born from the dark crevasses that split the northern ice. They fanned out, surrounding Nina, Matthias, and Kuwei.
Nina thought of the white prison cells, the drains in the floors. Had all of the parem been destroyed with Kuwei’s lab? How long would it take him to make another batch, and what would they subject her to before that? She cast a last desperate look into the darkness, praying for some sign of Kaz. Had someone gotten him, too? Had he just abandoned them there? She was meant to be a warrior. She needed to steel herself against what was to come.
One of the drüskelle came forward with what looked like a long-handled whip attached to the cables that bound them, and handed it to Lars.
“Do you recognize this, Helvar?” Lars asked. “You should. You helped with its design. Retractable cables for controlling multiple captives. And the barbs, of course.”
Lars flicked his finger over one of the cables, and Nina gasped as stinging little barbs jabbed into her arms and torso. The drüskelle laughed.
“Leave her be,” Matthias growled in Fjerdan, the words bristling with rage. For the briefest second, she saw a flash of panic in his former compatriots. He was bigger than all of them, and he’d been one of their leaders, one of the best of these murderous boys. Then Lars gave another cable a hard flick. The barbs released, and Matthias let out a pained huff of breath, doubling at the waist, human once more.
The snickering that followed was furtive and cruel.
Lars gave the whip a sharp snap, and the cables contracted, forcing Nina, Matthias, and Kuwei to totter after him in an awkward parade.
“Do you still pray to our god, Helvar?” Lars asked as they passed the sacred tree. “Do you think Djel hears the mewling of men who give themselves over to the defilement of Grisha? Do you think—”
Then a sharp, animal yelp sounded. It took Nina and the others a long moment to realize it had come from Lars. He opened his mouth and blood gushed over his chin and onto the bright silver buttons of his uniform. His hand released the whip, and the hooded drüskelle beside him lunged forward to snatch it up.
A sharp pop pop pop came from the base of the sacred tree. Nina recognized that sound—she’d heard it on the northern road before they waylaid the prison wagon. When they’d brought the tree down. The ash creaked and moaned. Its ancient roots began to curl.
“Nej!” cried one of the drüskelle. They stood open-mouthed, gaping at the stricken tree. “Nej!” another voice wailed.
The ash began to tilt. It was too large to be felled by salt concentrate alone, but as it tipped, a dull roar emerged from the gaping black hole beneath it.
This was where the drüskelle came to hear the voice of their god. And now he was speaking.
“This is going to sting a bit,” said the drüskelle holding the whip. His voice was rasping, familiar. His hands were gloved. “But if we live, you’ll thank me later.” His hood slid off, and Kaz Brekker looked back at them. The stunned drüskelle lifted their rifles.
“Don’t pop the baleen before you hit bottom,” Kaz called. Then he grabbed Kuwei and launched them both into the black mouth beneath the roots of the tree.
Nina screamed as her body was yanked forward by the cables. She scrabbled over the stones trying to find purchase. The last thing she glimpsed was Matthias toppling into the hole beside her. She heard gunfire—and then she was falling into the black, into the cold, into the throat of Djel, into nothing at all.
38
KAZ
ELEVEN BELLS AND THREE-QUARTERS CHIME
Kaz had considered trying to eavesdrop on Matthias and Brum in the ballroom, but he didn’t want to lose sight of Nina when there were so many drüskelle around. He?
??d gambled on Matthias’ feelings for Nina, but he’d always liked those odds. The real risk had been in whether or not someone as honest as Matthias could convincingly lie to his mentor’s face. Apparently the Fjerdan had hidden skills.
Kaz had tracked Nina and Brum across the grounds to the treasury. Then he’d taken cover behind an ice sculpture and focused on the miserable task of regurgitating the packets of Wylan’s root bombs he’d swallowed before they’d ambushed the prison wagon. He’d had to bring them up—along with a pouch of chloropellets and an extra set of lockpicks he’d forced down his gullet in case of emergency—every other hour to keep from digesting them. It hadn’t been pleasant. He’d learned the trick from an East Stave magician with a fire-breathing act that had run for years before the man had accidentally poisoned himself by ingesting kerosene.
Once Kaz was done, he’d let himself check the treasury perimeter, the roof, the entry, but eventually there was nothing for him to do but keep hidden, stay alert, and worry about all the things that might be going wrong. He remembered Inej standing on the embassy roof, aglow with some new fervor he didn’t understand but could still recognize—purpose. It had suffused her with light. I’m taking my share, and I’m leaving the Dregs. When she’d talked about leaving Ketterdam before, he’d never quite believed her. This time was different.
He’d been hidden in the shadows of the western colonnade when the bells of Black Protocol had begun to ring, the chimes of the Elderclock booming over the island, shaking the air. Lights from the guard towers came on in a bright flood. The drüskelle around the ash left off their rituals and began shouting orders, and a wave of guards descended from the towers to spread out over the island. He’d waited, counting the minutes, but there was still no sign of Nina or Matthias. They’re in trouble, Kaz had thought. Or you were dead wrong about Matthias, and you’re about to pay for all of those talking tree jokes.
