“It’s men who seek grandeur,” Inej said, springing nimbly along as if her feet knew some secret topography. “The Saints hear prayers wherever they’re spoken.”
“And answer them according to their moods?”
“What you want and what the world needs are not always in accord, Kaz. Praying and wishing are not the same thing.”
But they’re equally useless. Kaz bit back the reply. He was too focused on not plummeting to his death to properly engage in an argument.
At the tip of the ring finger, they stopped and took in the view. To the southwest, they could see the high spires of the cathedral, the Exchange, the glittering clock tower of the Geldrenner Hotel, and the long ribbon of the Beurscanal flowing beneath Zentsbridge. But if they looked east, this particular rooftop gave them a direct view of the Geldstraat, the Geldcanal beyond, and Van Eck’s stately home.
It was a good vantage point to observe the security Van Eck had put in place around the house and on the canal, but it wouldn’t give them all the information they needed.
“We’re going to have to get closer,” said Kaz.
“I know,” said Inej, drawing a length of rope from her tunic and looping it over one of the roof’s finials. “It will be faster and safer for me to case Van Eck’s house on my own. Give me a half hour.”
“You—”
“By the time you make it back to the gondel , I’ll have all the information we need.”
He was going to kill her. “You dragged me up here for nothing.”
“Your pride dragged you up here. If Van Eck senses anything amiss tonight, it’s all over. This isn’t a two-person job and you know it.”
“Inej—”
“My future is riding on this too, Kaz. I don’t tell you how to pick locks or put together a plan. This is what I’m good at, so let me do my job.” She yanked the rope taut. “And just think of all the time you’ll have for prayer and quiet contemplation on the way down.”
She vanished over the side of the chapel.
Kaz stood there, staring at the place she’d been only seconds before. She’d tricked him. The decent, honest, pious Wraith had outsmarted him. He turned to look back at the long expanse of roof he was going to have to traverse to get back to the boat.
“Curse you and all your Saints,” he said to no one at all, then realized he was smiling.
Kaz was in a decidedly less amused frame of mind by the time he sank into the gondel . He didn’t mind that she’d duped him, he just hated that she was right. He knew perfectly well that he was in no shape to try to slink into Van Eck’s house blind tonight. It wasn’t a two-person job, and it wasn’t the way they operated. She was the Wraith, the Barrel’s best thief of secrets. Gathering intelligence without being spotted was her specialty, not his. He could also admit that he was grateful to just sit for a moment, stretch out his leg as water lapped gently at the sides of the canal. So why had he insisted that he accompany her? That was dangerous thinking—the kind of thinking that had gotten Inej captured in the first place.
I can best this , Kaz told himself. By midnight tomorrow, Kuwei would be on his way out of Ketterdam. In a matter of days, they would have their reward. Inej would be free to pursue her dream of hunting slavers, and he’d be rid of this constant distraction. He would start a new gang, one built from the youngest, deadliest members of the Dregs. He’d rededicate himself to the promise he’d made to Jordie’s memory, the painstaking task of pulling Pekka Rollins’ life apart piece by piece.
And yet, his eyes kept drifting to the walkway beside the canal, his impatience growing. He was better than this. Waiting was the part of the criminal life so many people got wrong. They wanted to act instead of hold fast and gather information. They wanted to know instantly without having to learn. Sometimes the trick to getting the best of a situation was just to wait. If you didn’t like the weather, you didn’t rush into the storm—you waited until it changed. You found a way to keep from getting wet.
Brilliant , thought Kaz. So where the hell is she?
A few long minutes later, she dropped soundlessly into the gondel .
“Tell me,” he said as he set them moving down the canal.
“Alys is still in the same room on the second floor. There’s a guard posted outside her door.”
“The office?”
“Same location, right down the hall. He’s had Schuyler locks installed on all of the house’s exterior windows.” Kaz blew out an annoyed breath. “Is that a problem?” she asked.
“No. A Schuyler lock won’t stop any pick worth his stones, but they’re time-consuming.”
“I couldn’t make sense of them, so I had to wait for one of the kitchen staff to open the back door.” He’d done a shoddy job of teaching her to pick locks. She could master a Schuyler if she put her mind to it. “They were taking deliveries,” Inej continued. “From the little bit I was able to hear, they’re preparing for a meeting tomorrow night with the Merchant Council.”
“Makes sense,” said Kaz. “He’ll act the role of the distraught father and get them to add more stadwatch to the search.”
“Will they oblige?”
“They have no reason to deny him. And they’re all getting fair warning to sweep their mistresses or whatever else they don’t want discovered in a raid under the rug.”
“The Barrel won’t go easy.”
“No,” said Kaz as the gondel slid past the shallow sandbar that abutted Black Veil and into the island’s mists. “No one wants the merchers poking around in our business. Any notion of what time this little meeting of the Council will take place?”
“The cooks were making noises about setting a full table for dinner. Could make for a good distraction.”
“Exactly.” This was them at their best, with nothing but the job between them, working together free of complications. He should leave it at that, but he needed to know. “You said Van Eck didn’t hurt you. Tell me the truth.”
They’d reached the shelter of the willows. Inej kept her eyes on the droop of their white branches. “He didn’t.”
They climbed out of the gondel , made sure it was thoroughly camouflaged, and picked their way up the shore. Kaz followed Inej, waiting, letting her weather change. The moon was starting to set, limning the graves of Black Veil, a miniature skyline etched in silver. Her braid had come uncoiled down her back. He imagined wrapping it around his hand, rubbing his thumb over the pattern of its plaits. And then what? He shoved the thought away.
When they were only a few yards from the stone hull, Inej halted and watched the mists wreathing the branches. “He was going to break my legs,” she said. “Smash them with a mallet so they’d never heal.”
Thoughts of moonlight and silken hair evaporated in a black bolt of fury. Kaz saw Inej tug on the sleeve of her left forearm, where the Menagerie tattoo had once been. He had the barest inkling of what she’d endured there, but he knew what it was to feel helpless, and Van Eck had managed to make her feel that way again. Kaz was going to have to find a new language of suffering to teach that smug merch son of a bitch.
Jesper and Nina were right. Inej needed rest and a chance to recover after the last few days. He knew how strong she was, but he also knew what captivity meant to her.
“If you’re not up for the job—”
“I’m up for the job,” she said, her back still to him.
The silence between them was dark water. He could not cross it. He couldn’t walk the line between the decency she deserved and the violence this path demanded. If he tried, it might get them both killed. He could only be who he truly was—a boy who had no comfort to offer. So he would give her what he could.
“I’m going to open Van Eck up,” he said quietly. “I’m going to give him a wound that can’t be sewn shut, that he’ll never recover from. The kind that can’t be healed.”
“The kind you endured?”
“Yes.” It was a promise. It was an admission.
She took a shaky breath. The words came like a string of gunshots, rapid-fire, as if she resented the very act of speaking them. “I didn’t know if you would come.”