Page 98 of Crooked Kingdom (Dregs 2)
The figures seemed to blur, and when the mists finally thinned, Kaz saw no trace of the Tides.
He shook his head and set off down the canal. That was the wonderful thing about Ketterdam. It never let you get bored. No doubt the Tides would want something from him in the future, and he’d be obliged to give it to them.
But for now, he had unfinished business.
44
INEJ
Inej didn’t think she could make it up the stairs to bed. How had she whiled away so many hours at dinner with Jesper and Wylan?
The cook had been all apologies as the meal was served that night. She still couldn’t get quality fresh produce from the markets, what with people so afraid to come into the city. They’d done their best to reassure her and had stuffed themselves on cheese and leek pie, then eaten honey-soaked cakes while sitting on the music room floor. Wylan’s mother had retired early. She seemed to be coming back to herself in fits and starts, but Inej suspected it would be a long road.
Wylan played the piano and Jesper sang the dirtiest sea shanty Inej had ever heard. She missed Nina painfully. There had been no letters, and she could only hope her friend had made it to Fjerda safely and found some peace on the ice. When Inej finally had her ship, maybe her first trip would be to Ravka. She could journey inland to Os Alta, try to find her family on one of the old routes they’d traveled, see Nina again. Someday.
Inej had chosen to spend her nights at Wylan’s house, returning to the Slat just to fetch her few belongings. With her contract paid and her bank account brimming with funds, she wasn’t entirely sure where she belonged. She’d been researching sailing vessels with heavy cannon, and using her knowledge of the city’s secrets to begin gathering information that she hoped would lead her to the slavers who did business through the ports of Kerch. The skills she’d acquired as the Wraith would serve her well. But tonight, all she wanted to contemplate was sleep.
She dragged herself up the stairs and crawled into her deliciously comfortable bed. Only when she’d reached over to turn down the lamp did she see the note—a sealed letter in Kaz’s messy scrawl. Sunrise. Fifth Harbor.
Of course he’d managed to get into the locked house, past the servants and the three fools singing at the top of their lungs. It was only fair, she supposed. She’d been coming and going at the Slat, slipping in and out of windows and doorways, leaving bits of information for Kaz when she needed to. She could have simply knocked on his office door, but it was easier this way.
Kaz had changed. The net. Paying her contract. She could still feel the faint touch of his lips on her skin, his bare hands fumbling with the knots of her bandages. Inej had seen the scant glimmer of what he might become if he let himself. She couldn’t bear to see him dressed in armor once more, buttoned back into his immaculate suits and cold demeanor. She wouldn’t listen to him talk as if the Ice Court and everything that came after had been just another job, another score, another bit of advantage to be gained.
But she wouldn’t ignore his note. It was time to put an end to this thing that had never had a chance to begin. She’d tell him what she’d heard about Pekka, offer to share some of her routes and hiding spots with Roeder. It would be over. She turned down the light, and after a long while, she fell asleep with the note clutched in her hand.
* * *
It was hard to force herself from bed the next morning. She’d developed bad habits in the last three weeks—sleeping when she wanted to, eating when she liked. Nina would be proud. Being at Wylan’s house felt like she’d entered some kind of enchanted world. She’d been to the house before, when she and Kaz had stolen the DeKappel and then again before the Sweet Reef job. But it was one thing to be a thief in a house and quite another to be a guest. Inej found herself embarrassed by the pleasure of being waited on, and yet, Van Eck’s staff seemed glad to have them there. Maybe they’d feared Wylan would close up the house and they’d all lose their employment. Or maybe they thought Wylan deserved some kindness.
One of the maids had set out a lapis silk robe and a little pair of fur-lined slippers by the side of the bed. There was hot water in the pitcher by the basin, a glass bowl full of fresh roses. She washed, brushed out her hair, rebraided it, then dressed and quietly let herself out of the house—through the front door, of all things.
She kept her hood up and moved swiftly as she made her way to the harbor. The streets were still largely empty, especially at this hour of the morning, but Inej knew she could not let down her guard. Pekka Rollins was gone. Van Eck was in jail. But contracted to the Dregs or not, as long as Kaz had enemies on these streets, she did too.
He was standing on the quay, looking out at the water. His black coat fit snugly across his shoulders, the salt wind off the sea ruffling the dark waves of his hair.
She knew she did not have to announce herself, so she stood next to him, taking in the view of the boats at the docks. It looked like several vessels had arrived that morning. Maybe the city was regaining its rhythm.
“How are things at the house?” he asked at last.
“Comfortable,” she admitted. “It’s made me lazy.” For the briefest moment, Inej wondered if Kaz might be jealous of that comfort or if it was simply alien to him. Would he ever let himself rest? Sleep in? Linger over a meal? She would never know.
“I hear Wylan is letting Jesper play the markets.”
“Very cautiously and with extremely limited sums. Wylan’s hoping to channel his love of risk into something productive.”
“It might work brilliantly or it could end in total disaster, but that’s generally the way Jesper likes to work. At least the odds are better than in any gambling hall.”
“Wylan only agreed after Jesper promised to start training with a Fabrikator. Assuming they can find one. It might take a trip to Ravka.”
Kaz tilted his head, watching a gull arc above them, wings spread wide. “Tell Jesper he’s missed. Around the Slat.”
Inej raised a brow. “Around the Slat.” From Kaz that was as good as a bouquet of flowers and a heartfelt hug—and it would mean the world to Jesper.
Part of her wanted to draw this moment out, to be near him a while longer, listen to the rough burr of his voice, or just stand there in easy silence as they’d done countless times before. He had been so much of her world for so long. Instead she said, “What business, Kaz? You can’t be planning a new job so soon.”
“Here,” he said, handing her a long glass. With a jolt, she realized he wasn’t wearing his gloves. She took it from him tentatively.
Inej put the long glass to her eye and peered out at the harbor. “I don’t know what I’m looking for.”
“Berth twenty-two.”
Inej adjusted the lens and scanned along the docks. There, in the very berth from which they’d set out for the Ice Court, was a tidy little warship. She was sleek and perfectly proportioned, cannons out, a flag bearing the three Kerch fishes flying stiffly from the mainmast. On her side, spelled out in graceful white script, were the words The Wraith.
Inej’s heart stuttered. It couldn’t be. “That’s not—”
“She’s yours,” said Kaz. “I’ve asked Specht to help you hire on the right crew. If you’d prefer to take on a different first mate, he—”
“Kaz—”
“Wylan gave me a good price. His father’s fleet is full of worthy ships, but that one … It suited you.” He looked down at his boots. “That berth belongs to you too. It will always be there when—if you want to come back.”
Inej could not speak. Her heart felt too full, a dry creek bed ill-prepared for such rain. “I don’t know what to say.”
His bare hand flexed on the crow’s head of his cane. The sight was so strange Inej had trouble tearing her eyes from it. “Say you’ll return.”
“I’m not done with Ketterdam.” She hadn’t known she meant it until she’d said the words.
Kaz cast her a swift glance. “I thought you wanted to hunt slavers.”
?
?I do. And I want your help.” Inej licked her lips, tasted the ocean on them. Her life had been a series of impossible moments, so why not ask for something impossible now? “It’s not just the slavers. It’s the procurers, the customers, the Barrel bosses, the politicians. It’s everyone who turns a blind eye to suffering when there’s money to be made.”
“I’m a Barrel boss.”
“You would never sell someone, Kaz. You know better than anyone that you’re not just one more boss scraping for the best margin.”
“The bosses, the customers, the politicians,” he mused. “That could be half the people in Ketterdam—and you want to fight them all.”
“Why not?” Inej asked. “On the seas and in the city. One by one.”
“Brick by brick,” he said. Then he gave a single shake of his head, as if shrugging off the notion. “I wasn’t made to be a hero, Wraith. You should have learned that by now. You want me to be the better man, a good man. I—”
“This city doesn’t need a good man. It needs you.”
“Inej—”
