Crooked Kingdom: Book 2 (Six of Crows) Read online

  Too soon, she saw the shapes of the first two guards at their post. They leaned against the low stone wall, rifles propped beside them, their conversation rising and falling in a lazy hum. Easy.

  “Take ’em shut-eye,” said Jesper.

  Nina focused on the guards, letting her own body become attuned to theirs, seeking out their heartbeats, the rushing rhythm of their blood. It was like stumbling blind through the dark. There was simply nothing there. Dimly, she was aware of the suggestion of their frames, a trace of knowing, but that was all. She saw them with her eyes, heard them with her ears, but the rest was silence. That other sense inside her, the gift that had been there for as long as she could remember, the heart of the power that had been her constant companion since she was a child, had simply ceased to beat. All she could think of was parem , the exhilaration, the ease, as if the universe lay at her fingertips.

  “What are you waiting for?” said Jesper.

  Alerted by some sound or simply their presence, one of the guards glanced in their direction, peering into the shadows. He lifted his rifle and signaled to his companion to follow.

  “They’re headed this way.” Jesper’s hands went to his guns.

  Oh, Saints. If Jesper had to shoot, the other guards would be alerted. The alarm would be raised, and this whole endeavor might go straight to hell.

  Nina focused with all her will. The hunger for parem seized her, quaking through her body, digging into her skull with determined talons. She ignored it. One of the guards faltered, went to his knees.

  “Gillis!” said the other guard. “What is it?” But he was not foolish enough to lower his weapon. “Halt!” he shouted in their direction, still trying to support his friend. “Identify yourselves.”

  “Nina ,” Jesper whispered furiously. “Do something.”

  Nina clenched her fist, trying to squeeze the guard’s larynx shut to prevent him from calling for help.

  “Identify yourselves!”

  Jesper drew his gun. No, no, no. She was not going to be the reason this went wrong. Parem was supposed to kill her or leave her alone, not stick her in this miserable, powerless purgatory. Rage swept through Nina, clean, perfect, focusing anger. Her mind reached out and suddenly, she had hold of something, not a body, but something. She caught a movement from the corner of her eye, a dim shape emerging from the shadows—a cloud of dust. It shot toward the standing guard. He swatted at it as if trying to drive away a swarm of mosquitoes, but it whirred faster, faster, a nearly invisible blur. The guard opened his mouth to scream and the cloud vanished. He let out a grunt and toppled backward.

  His compatriot was still balancing woozily on his knees. Nina and Jesper strode forward, and Jesper gave the kneeling guard a whack to the back of the head with the butt of his revolver. The man slumped to the ground, unconscious. Cautiously, they examined the other guard. He lay with eyes open, staring up at the starry sky. His mouth and nostrils were choked with fine white dust.

  “Did you do that?” said Jesper.

  Had she? Nina felt like she could taste the dust in her own mouth. This shouldn’t be possible. A Corporalnik could manipulate the human body, not inorganic matter. This was the work of a Fabrikator—a powerful one. “It wasn’t you?”

  “I appreciate the vote of confidence, but this was all you, gorgeous.”

  “I didn’t mean to kill him.” What had she meant to do? Just keep him quiet. Dust dribbled from the corner of his parted lips in a fine line.

  “There are two more guards,” said Jesper. “And we’re already running late.”

  “How about we just knock them over the head?”

  “Sophisticated. I like it.”

  Nina felt a strange crawling sensation all over her body, but the need for parem wasn’t screaming through her any longer. I didn’t mean to kill him. It didn’t matter. It couldn’t right now. The guards were down and the plan was in motion.

  “Come on,” she said. “Let’s go get our girl.”

  I nej spent a sleepless night in the dark. When her stomach started to growl, she suspected it was morning, but no one arrived to remove her blindfold or offer her a tray. It seemed Van Eck didn’t feel the need to coddle her anymore. He’d seen the fear in her clearly enough. That would be his leverage now, not Bajan’s Suli eyes and attempts at kindness.

  When her shivering had passed, she had struggled over to the vent, only to find that it had been bolted firmly shut. It had to have been done while she was in the theater. She wasn’t surprised. She suspected Van Eck had left it unsecured just to give her hope and then snatch it away.

  Eventually, her mind had begun to clear, and as she’d lain in the silence, she’d made a plan. She would talk. There were plenty of safe houses and hideouts that the Dregs had ceased to use because they’d been compromised or simply stopped being convenient. She’d start there. Then there were the supposedly secure places that belonged to some of the other Barrel gangs. She knew of a converted shipping container in Third Harbor that the Liddies occasionally used. The Razorgulls liked to hole up in a dingy hotel only a few streets over from the Slat. They called it Jam Tart House because of its faded raspberry color and the white eaves that looked like they were decorated in icing. It should take Van Eck the better part of a night to search all the rooms. She would stall. She’d lead Van Eck and his men all over Ketterdam looking for Kaz. She’d never been much of an actress, but she’d been forced to tell her share of lies at the Menagerie, and surely she’d spent enough time around Nina to learn a thing or two.

  When Bajan finally appeared and removed her blindfold, he had six armed guards with him. She wasn’t sure how much time had passed, but she suspected the entire day had gone. Bajan’s face looked sallow and he had trouble meeting her eyes. She hoped he’d lain awake all night, the weight of her words heavy on his chest. He cut her ankles free but replaced the ropes with shackles. They clanked heavily as the guards led her down the hall.

  This time they took her through the back door of the theater, past flats of scenery and discarded props covered in dust, to the stage. The moth-eaten green curtains had been lowered so that the cavernous seating area and balconies were no longer visible. Closed off from the rest of the theater, warmed by the heat radiating from the stage lights, the set had a curious feeling of intimacy. It seemed less like a stage than a real surgeon’s operating room. Inej’s gaze touched the wrecked corner of the table where she’d lain the previous night and then quickly darted away.

  Van Eck was waiting with the blade-nosed guard. Inej made a silent promise. Even if her plan failed, even if he smashed her legs to pulp, even if she never walked again, she’d find a way to pay him back in kind. She didn’t know how, but she’d manage it. She’d survived too much to let Jan Van Eck destroy her.

  “Are you afraid, Miss Ghafa?” he asked.

  “Yes.”

  “Such honesty. And are you prepared to tell me what you know?”

  Inej took a deep breath and hung her head in what she hoped was a convincing display of reluctance. “Yes,” she whispered.

  “Go on.”

  “How do I know you won’t take the information and hurt me anyway?” she asked carefully.

  “If the information is good, you have nothing to fear from me, Miss Ghafa. I am not a brute. I’ve employed the methods you are most accustomed to—threats, violence. The Barrel has trained you to expect such treatment.” He sounded like Tante Heleen. Why do you make me do these things? You bring these punishments on yourself, girl.

  “I have your word, then?” she asked. It was absurd. Van Eck had made clear exactly what his word was worth when he’d broken their arrangement on Vellgeluk and tried to have them all killed.

  But he nodded solemnly. “You do,” he said. “The deal is the deal.”

  “And Kaz must never know—”

  “Of course, of course,” he said with some impatience.

  Inej cleared her throat. “The Blue Paradise is a club not far from the Slat. Kaz has used t
he rooms above it to stow stolen merchandise before.” It was true. And the rooms should still be empty. Kaz had stopped using the place after he’d discovered one of the barkeeps was in debt to the Dime Lions. He didn’t want anyone reporting on his comings and goings.

  “Very good. What else?”

  Inej worried her lower lip. “An apartment on Kolstraat. I don’t remember the number. It has a view of the back entrances to some of the dens on East Stave. We’ve used it for stakeouts before.”

  “Is that so? Please go on.”

  “There’s a shipping container—”

  “Do you know something, Miss Ghafa?” Van Eck stepped closer to her. There was no anger on his face. He looked almost gleeful. “I don’t think any of these places are real leads.”

  “I wouldn’t—”

  “I think you intend to send me off chasing my tail while you wait for rescue or plan some other misbegotten escape attempt. But Miss Ghafa, you needn’t wait. Mister Brekker is on his way to rescue you this very minute.” He gestured to one of the guards. “Raise the curtain.”

  Inej heard the creak of ropes and, slowly, the ragged curtains rose. The theater was packed with guards lining the aisles, thirty at least, maybe more, all heavily armed with rifles and cudgels, an overwhelming display of force. No , she thought, as Van Eck’s words sank in.

  “That’s right, Miss Ghafa,” said Van Eck. “Your hero is coming. Mister Brekker likes to believe that he’s the smartest person in Ketterdam, so I thought I’d indulge him and let him outsmart himself. I realized that instead of hiding you, I should simply let you be found.”

  Inej frowned. It couldn’t be. It couldn’t be. Had this merch actually outwitted Kaz? Had he used her to do it?

  “I’ve been sending Bajan back and forth from Eil Komedie every day. I thought a Suli boy would be most conspicuous and any traffic to a supposedly deserted island was bound to be remarked upon. Until tonight, I wasn’t sure Brekker would bite; I was growing most anxious. But he did. Earlier this evening, two of his team were spotted on the docks preparing a gondel to launch—that big Fjerdan and the Zemeni boy. I did not have them intercepted. Much like you, they are mere pawns. Kuwei is the prize, and your Mister Brekker is finally going to give me what I am owed.”

  “If you’d treated fairly with us, you’d have Kuwei already,” she said. “We risked our lives to get him out of the Ice Court. We risked everything. You should have honored your word.”

  “A patriot would have offered to free Kuwei without the promise of reward.”

  “A patriot? Your scheme for jurda parem will bring chaos to Kerch.”

  “Markets are resilient. Kerch will endure. It may even be strengthened by the changes to come. But you and your ilk may not fare so well. How do you think the parasites of the Barrel will manage when we are at war? When honest men have no coin to squander and put their minds to toil instead of vice?”

  Inej felt her lip curl. “Canal rats have a way of surviving, no matter how hard you try to stamp us out.”

  He smiled. “Most of your friends won’t survive this night.”

  She thought of Jesper, Nina and Matthias, sweet Wylan who deserved so much better than this filth for a father. It wasn’t just about winning for Van Eck. It was personal. “You hate us.”

  “Frankly, you are of little interest to me—an acrobat or dancer or whatever you were before you became a blight on this city. But I confess Kaz Brekker does offend me. Vile, ruthless, amoral. He feeds corruption with corruption. Such a remarkable mind might have been put to great use. He might have ruled this city, built something, created profit that would have benefited all. Instead he leeches off the work of better men.”

  “Better men? Like you?”

  “It pains you to hear it, but it is true. When I leave this world, the greatest shipping empire ever known will remain, an engine of wealth, a tribute to Ghezen and a sign of his favor. Who will remember a girl like you, Miss Ghafa? What will you and Kaz Brekker leave behind but corpses to be burned on the Reaper’s Barge?”

  A shout came from outside the theater, and a sudden hush fell as the guards turned toward the entrance doors.

  Van Eck consulted his watch. “Midnight on the dot. Brekker has a flair for the dramatic.”

  She heard another shout, then a brief rattle of gunfire. Six guards behind her, shackles at her feet. Helplessness rose up to choke her. Kaz and the others were about to walk into a trap, and she had no way to warn them.

  “I thought it best not to leave the perimeter completely unguarded,” said Van Eck. “We wouldn’t want to make it too easy and give away the game.”

  “He’ll never tell you where Kuwei is.”

  Van Eck’s smile was indulgent. “I only wonder which will prove more effective—torturing Mister Brekker or having him watch as I torture you.” He leaned in, his voice conspiratorial. “I can tell you the first thing I’m going to do is peel off those gloves and break every one of his thieving fingers.”

  Inej thought of Kaz’s pale trickster hands, the shiny rope of scar tissue that ran atop his right knuckle. Van Eck could break every finger and both of Kaz’s legs and he’d never say a word, but if his men stripped away Kaz’s gloves? Inej still didn’t understand why he needed them or why he’d fainted in the prison wagon on the way into the Ice Court, but she knew Kaz couldn’t bear the touch of skin on skin. How much of this weakness could he hide? How quickly would Van Eck locate his vulnerability, exploit it? How long until Kaz came undone? She couldn’t bear it. She was glad she didn’t know where Kuwei was. She would break before Kaz did.

  Boots were clattering down the hall, a thunder of footsteps. Inej surged forward and opened her mouth to cry out warning, but a guard’s hand clamped down hard over her lips as she struggled in his arms.

  The door flew open. Thirty guards raised thirty rifles and thirty triggers cocked. The boy in the doorway flinched backward, his face white, his corkscrew brown curls disarrayed. He wore the Van Eck livery of red and gold.

  “I—Mister Van Eck,” he panted, hands held up in defense.

  “Stand down,” Van Eck commanded the guards. “What is it?”

  The boy swallowed. “Sir, the lake house. They approached from the water.”

  Van Eck stood, knocking over his chair. “Alys—”

  “They took her an hour ago.”

  Alys. Jan Van Eck’s pretty, pregnant wife. Inej felt hope spark, but she tamped it down, afraid to believe.

  “They killed one of the guards and left the rest tied up in the pantry,” the boy continued breathlessly. “There was a note on the table.”

  “Bring it here,” Van Eck barked. The boy strode down the aisle, and Van Eck snatched the note from his hand.

  “What does it … what does it say?” asked Bajan. His voice was tremulous. Maybe Inej had been right about Alys and the music teacher.

  Van Eck backhanded him. “If I find out you knew anything about this—”

  “I didn’t!” Bajan cried. “I knew nothing. I followed your orders to the letter!”

  Van Eck crumpled the note in his fist, but not before Inej made out the words in Kaz’s jagged, unmistakable hand: Noon tomorrow. Goedmedbridge. With her knives.

  “The note was weighted down with this.” The boy reached into his pocket and drew out a tie pin—a fat ruby surrounded by golden laurel leaves. Kaz had stolen it from Van Eck back when they’d first been hired for the Ice Court job. Inej hadn’t had the chance to fence it before they left Ketterdam. Somehow Kaz must have gotten hold of it again.

  “Brekker,” Van Eck snarled, his voice taut with rage.

  Inej couldn’t help it. She started to laugh.

  Van Eck slapped her hard. He grabbed her tunic and shook her so that her bones rattled. “Brekker thinks we’re still playing a game, does he? She is my wife. She carries my heir.”

  Inej laughed even harder, all the horrors of the past week rising from her chest in giddy peals. She wasn’t sure she could have stopped if she wanted t
o. “And you were foolish enough to tell Kaz all of that on Vellgeluk.”

  “Shall I have Franke fetch the mallet and show you just how serious I am?”

  “Mister Van Eck,” Bajan pleaded.

  But Inej was done being frightened of this man. Before Van Eck could take another breath, she slammed her forehead upward, shattering his nose. He screamed and released her as blood gushed over his fine mercher suit. Instantly, his guards were on her, pulling her back.

  “You little wretch,” Van Eck said, holding a monogrammed handkerchief to his face. “You little whore. I’ll take a hammer to both your legs myself—”

  “Go on, Van Eck, threaten me. Tell me all the little things I am. You lay a finger on me and Kaz Brekker will cut the baby from your pretty wife’s stomach and hang its body from a balcony at the Exchange.” Ugly words, speech that pricked her conscience, but Van Eck deserved the images she’d planted in his mind. Though she didn’t believe Kaz would do such a thing, she felt grateful for each nasty, vicious thing Dirtyhands had done to earn his reputation—a reputation that would haunt Van Eck every second until his wife was returned.

  “Be silent,” he shouted, spittle flying from his mouth.

  “You think he won’t?” Inej taunted. She could feel the heat in her cheek from where his hand had struck her, could see the mallet still resting in the guard’s hand. Van Eck had given her fear and she was happy to return it to him. “Vile, ruthless, amoral. Isn’t that why you hired Kaz in the first place? Because he does the things that no one else dares? Go on, Van Eck. Break my legs and see what happens. Dare him. ”

  Had she really believed a merch could outthink Kaz Brekker? Kaz would get her free and then they’d show this man exactly what whores and canal rats could do.

  “Console yourself,” she said as Van Eck clutched the ragged corner of the table for support. “Even better men can be bested.”

  M atthias would be atoning for the mistakes he’d made in this life long into the next one, but he’d always believed that despite his crimes and failings, there was a core of decency inside him that could never be breached. And yet, he felt sure that if he had to spend another hour with Alys Van Eck, he might murder her just for the sake of a little quiet.