“It’s the warehouse district,” Matthias explained. “Deserted at night.”
The tank clattered and clanked over the cobblestones, swinging right and left over kerbs and back again to avoid the few pedestrians, then sped into the harbour district, past taverns and shops and shipping offices.
Kuwei tilted his head back, his face bright with joy. “I can smell the sea,” he said happily.
Nina could smell it, too. The lighthouse gleamed in the distance. Two more blocks and they’d be at the quay and freedom. Thirty million kruge. With her share and Matthias’ they could go anywhere they wanted, live any life they chose.
“Almost there!” cried Wylan.
They rounded a corner, and Nina’s stomach dropped.
“Stop!” she shouted. “Stop!”
She needn’t have bothered. The tank jolted to a halt, nearly flinging Nina from her perch. The quay lay directly before them, and beyond it the harbour, the flags of a thousand ships snapping in the breeze. The hour was late. The quay should have been empty. Instead, it was crowded with troops, row after row of them in grey uniforms, two hundred soldiers at least – and every barrel of every gun was pointed directly at them.
Nina could still hear the bells of the Elderclock. She looked over her shoulder. The Ice Court loomed over the harbour, perched on the cliff like a sullen gull with feathers ruffled, its white stone walls lit from below, glowing against the night sky.
“What is this?” Wylan asked Matthias. “You never said—”
“They must have changed deployment procedure.”
“Everything else was the same.”
“I’ve never seen Black Protocol engaged,” Matthias growled. “Maybe they always had troops stationed in the harbour. I don’t know.”
“Be quiet,” Inej said. “Just stop.”
Nina jumped as a voice echoed over the crowd. It spoke first in Fjerdan, then Ravkan, then Kerch, and finally Shu. “Release the prisoner Kuwei Yul-Bo. Put down your weapons and step away from the tank.”
“They can’t just open fire,” said Matthias. “They won’t risk hurting Kuwei.”
“They don’t have to,” said Nina. “Look.”
An emaciated prisoner was being led through the rows of soldiers. His hair was matted to his forehead. He wore a ragged red kefta and was clutching the sleeve of the guard closest to him, lips moving feverishly as if imparting some desperate wisdom. Nina knew he was begging for parem.
“A Heartrender,” Matthias said grimly.
“But he’s so far away,” protested Wylan.
Nina shook her head. “It won’t matter.” Had they kept him down here with whatever troops were
posted in lower Djerholm? Why not? He was a weapon better than any gun or tank.
“I can see the Ferolind,” murmured Inej. She pointed down the docks, just a little way off. It took Nina a moment, but then she picked out the Kerch flag and the cheery Haanraadt Bay pennant flying beneath it. They were so close.
Jesper could shoot the Heartrender. They could try barrelling through the troops with the tank, but they would never make it to the ship. The Fjerdans would gladly risk Kuwei’s life before they ever let him fall into anyone else’s hands.
“Kaz?” called Jesper from inside the tank. “This would be a really good time to say you saw this coming.”
Kaz looked out over the sea of soldiers. “I didn’t see this coming.” He shook his head. “You told me one day I’d run out of tricks, Helvar. Looks like you were right.” The words were for Matthias, but his eyes were on Inej.
“I’ve had my fill of captivity,” she said. “They won’t take me alive.”
“Me neither,” said Wylan.
Jesper snorted from inside the tank. “We really need to get him more suitable friends.”
“Better to go out with fists swinging than let some Fjerdan put me on a pike,” said Kaz.
Matthias nodded. “Then we agree. We end this here.”
“No,” Nina whispered. They all turned to her.
The voice echoed out from the Fjerdan ranks once more. “You have a count of ten to comply. I repeat: Release the prisoner Kuwei Yul-Bo and surrender yourselves. Ten …”
Nina spoke to Kuwei rapidly in Shu.
“You don’t understand,” he replied. “A single dose—”
“I understand,” she said. But the others didn’t. Not until they saw Kuwei produce a little leather pouch from his pocket. Its rim was stained with rust-coloured powder.
“No!” Matthias shouted. He grabbed for the parem, but Nina was faster.
The Fjerdan voice droned on: “Seven …”
“Nina, don’t be stupid,” said Inej. “You’ve seen—”
“Some people don’t get addicted after the first dose.”
“It isn’t worth the risk.”
“Six …”
“Kaz is out of tricks.” She plucked open the pouch. “But I’m not.”
“Nina, please,” Matthias begged. She’d seen the same anguish on his face that day in Elling when he thought she’d betrayed him. In a way, she was doing the same thing now, abandoning him once more.