He cut east through the city. He was tempted to take a detour, just to see for himself how things were proceeding on West Stave. Between the Shu attack and the plague outbreak, the pleasure houses were practically deserted. Several streets had been barricaded to enforce the quarantine surrounding the Sweet Shop and the Menagerie. Rumor had it Heleen Van Houden wasn’t going to make her rent that month. A pity.
There were no browboats operating, so he had to make the journey up to the financial district on foot. As he wended his way along a small, deserted canal, he saw a thick mist rising off the water. Only a few steps later, it was so dense he could barely see. The mist clung to his coat, wet and heavy, thoroughly out of place on a warm spring day. Kaz paused on the low bridge that spanned the canal, waiting, cane at the ready. A moment later, three hooded figures emerged to his left. Three more appeared to his right, their blue cloaks moving sinuously through the air, though there was no breeze. That much Kaz had gotten right, but their masks weren’t made of mist. Instead, the real Council of Tides—or a very convincing set of pretenders—wore something that gave the impression of looking into a starry night sky. Nice effect.
“Kaz Brekker,” said the lead Tidemaker. “Where is Kuwei Yul-Bo?”
“Dead and gone. Burnt to ashes on the Reaper’s Barge.”
“Where is the real Kuwei Yul-Bo?”
Kaz shrugged. “A church full of people saw him get shot. A medik pronounced him dead. Beyond that, I can’t help you.”
“You do not want the Council of Tides as an enemy, young man. None of your shipments will ever leave port again. We will flood Fifth Harbor.”
“By all means, do. I don’t own shares in Fifth Harbor anymore. You want to stop my shipments, you’ll have to stop every boat coming in and out of the harbor. I’m not a merch. I don’t charter ships and register trade manifests. I’m a thief and a smuggler. Try to catch hold of me and you’ll find you’re trying to hold air.”
“Do you know how easy it is to drown?” asked the Tidemaker. He lifted a hand. “It can happen anywhere.”
Suddenly Kaz felt his lungs filling with water. He coughed, spat seawater, and bent double, gasping.
“Tell us what we want to know,” said the Tidemaker.
Kaz drew a stuttering breath. “I don’t know where Kuwei Yul-Bo is. You can drown me where I stand and nothing will change that.”
“Then maybe we’ll find your friends and drown them in their beds.”
Kaz coughed and spat again. “And maybe you’ll find the obelisk towers under plague quarantine.” The Tides shifted uneasily, the mists moving with them. “I made those sirens sound. I created this plague, and I control it.”
“A bluff,” said the Tidemaker, his sleeve gliding through the mist.
“Try me. I’ll spread sickness around every one of your towers. They’ll become epicenters of disease. You think the Merchant Council won’t lock you all down? Demand you finally register your identities? They’d probably be happy for the excuse.”
“They wouldn’t dare. This country would sink were it not for us.”
“They won’t have a choice. The public will clamor for action. They’ll burn the towers from the ground up.”
“Monstrous boy.”
“Ketterdam is made of monsters. I just happen to have the longest teeth.”
“The secret of jurda parem can never be revealed to the world. No Grisha would ever be safe again. Not here. Not anywhere.”
“Then it’s lucky for you it died with that poor Shu kid.”
“We won’t forget this, Kaz Brekker. One day you’ll regret your insolence.”
“Tell you what,” said Kaz. “When that day comes, mark it on your calendars. I can think of a lot of people who’ll want to throw a party.”
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.
I nej 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.