And apparently the boy had come to collect. He stood in the middle of Rollins’ opulent office looking like a dark blot of ink, his face grim, his hands resting on a crow-handled walking stick.
Rollins wasn’t surprised to see him, exactly. Word had it that the exchange between Brekker and Van Eck had gone sour and that Van Eck had eyes on the Slat and the rest of Kaz Brekker ’s haunts. But Van Eck wasn’t watching the Emerald Palace. He had no reason to. Rollins wasn’t even sure the merch knew he had made it back from Fjerda alive.
When Brekker finished explaining the bare bones of the situation, Rollins shrugged and said, “You got double-crossed. You want my advice, give Kuwei to Van Eck and be done with it.”
“I’m not here for advice.”
“The merchers like the taxes we pay. They let the occasional bank heist or housebreak slide, but they expect us to stay here in the Barrel and leave them to their business. You go to war with Van Eck, and all that changes.”
“Van Eck’s gone rogue. If the Merchant Council knew—”
“And who’s going to tell them? A canal rat from the worst slum in the Barrel? Don’t kid yourself, Brekker. Cut your losses and live to fight another day.”
“I fight every day. You’re telling me you’d just walk away?”
“Look, you want to shoot yourself in the foot – the good foot – I’m happy to watch you do it. But I’m not going to ally with you. Not against a merch. No one will. You’re not courting a little gang war, Brekker. You’ll have the stadwatch, the Kerch army and its navy arrayed against you. They’ll burn the Slat to the ground with the old man in it, and they’ll take Fifth Harbour back, too.”
“I don’t expect you to fight beside me, Rollins.”
“Then what do you want? It’s yours. Within reason.”
“I need to get a message to the Ravkan capital. Fast.”
Rollins shrugged. “Easy enough.”
“And I need money.”
“Shocking. How much?”
“Two hundred thousand kruge.”
Rollins nearly choked on his laughter. “Anything else, Brekker? The Lantsov Emerald? A dragon
who craps rainbows?”
“You have the money to spare, Rollins. And I saved your life.”
“Then you should have negotiated back in that cell. I’m not a bank, Brekker. And even if I were, given your current situation, I’d say you’re a pretty poor credit risk.”
“I don’t want a loan.”
“You want me to give you two hundred thousand kruge? And what do I get for this generous gesture?”
Brekker ’s jaw set. “My shares in the Crow Club and Fifth Harbour.”
Rollins sat up straighter. “You’d sell your stake?”
“Yes. And for another hundred thousand I’ll throw in an original DeKappel.”
Rollins leaned back and pressed his fingers together. “It’s not enough, you know. Not to go to war with the Merchant Council.”
“It is for this crew.”
“This crew?” Rollins said with a snort. “I can’t believe you sorry lot were the ones to successfully raid the Ice Court.”
“Believe it.”
“Van Eck is going to put you in the ground.”
“Others have tried. Somehow I keep coming back from the dead.”
“I respect your drive, kid. And I understand. You want your money; you want the Wraith back; you want a bit of Van Eck’s hide—”
“No,” said Brekker, his voice part rasp, part growl. “When I come for Van Eck, I won’t just take what’s mine. I’ll carve his life hollow. I’ll burn his name from the ledger. There will be nothing left.”
Pekka Rollins couldn’t count the threats he’d heard, the men he’d killed, or the men he’d seen die, but the look in Brekker ’s eye still sent a chill slithering up his spine. Some wrathful thing in this boy was begging to get loose, and Rollins didn’t want to be around when it slipped its leash.
“Open the safe, Doughty.”
Rollins doled out the cash to Brekker, then had him write out a transfer order for his shares in the Crow Club and the goldmine that was Fifth Harbour. When he held out his hand to shake on the deal, Brekker ’s grip was knuckle-crushing.
“You don’t remember me at all, do you?” the boy asked.
“Should I?”
“Not just yet.” That black thing flickered behind Brekker ’s eyes.
“The deal is the deal,” said Rollins, eager to be done with this strange lot.
“The deal is the deal.”
When they’d gone, Rollins peered through the big glass window that overlooked the gambling floor of the Emerald Palace.
“An unexpectedly profitable end to the day, Doughty.”
Doughty grunted agreement, surveying the action taking place at the tables below – dice, cards, Makker ’s Wheel, fortunes won and lost, and a delicious slice of all of it came to Rollins.
“What’s with those gloves he wears?” the bruiser asked.
“A bit of theatre, I suspect. Who knows? Who cares?”