A t night, the warehouse district felt like it had shed its skin and taken on a new form. The shantytowns at its eastern edges crackled with life, while the streets of the district itself became a no-man’s-land, occupied only by guards at their posts and stadwatch grunts walking their beats.
Inej and Nina moored their boat in the wide central canal that ran up the center of the district and made their way down the silent quay, keeping close to the warehouses and away from the streetlamps that lined the water’s edge. They passed barges loaded with lumber and vast troughs piled high with coal. Every so often, they’d glimpse men working by lantern light, hefting barrels of rum or bales of cotton. Such valued cargo could not be left unattended overnight. When they had almost reached Sweet Reef, they saw two men unloading something from a large wagon parked by the side of the canal, lit by a single blue-tinged lamp.
“Corpselight,” whispered Inej, and Nina shuddered. Bonelights, made from the crushed skeletons of deep-sea fishes, glowed green. But the corpselights burned some other fuel, a blue warning that allowed people to identify the flatboats of the bodymen, whose cargo was the dead.
“What are the bodymen doing in the warehouse district?”
“People don’t like to see corpses on the streets or canals. The warehouse district is nearly deserted at night, so this is where they bring the bodies. Once the sun goes down, the bodymen collect the dead and bring them here. They work in shifts, neighborhood by neighborhood. They’ll be gone by dawn, and so will their cargo.” Out to the Reaper’s Barge for burning.
“Why don’t they just build a real cemetery?” Nina said.
“No room. I know there was some talk of reopening Black Veil a long time ago, but that all stopped when the Queen’s Lady Plague struck. People are too afraid of contagion. If your family can afford it, they send you to a cemetery or graveyard outside Ketterdam. And if they can’t …”
“No mourners,” Nina said grimly.
No mourners, no funerals. Another way of saying good luck. But it was something more. A dark wink to the fact that there would be no expensive burials for people like them, no marble markers to remember their names, no wreaths of myrtle and rose.
Inej took the lead as they approached Sweet Reef. The silos themselves were daunting, vast as sentinel gods, monuments to industry emblazoned with the Van Eck red laurel. Soon everyone would know what that emblem stood for—cowardice and deceit. The circular cluster of Van Eck’s silos was surrounded by a high metal fence.
“Razor wire,” Nina noted.
“It won’t be a problem.” It had been invented to keep livestock in their pens. It would present no challenge for the Wraith.
They took up a watch beside the sturdy red-brick wall of a warehouse and held their position, confirming that the guards’ routine hadn’t changed. Just as Kaz had said, the guards took almost twelve minutes exactly to circle the fence that surrounded the silos. When the patrols were on the eastern side of the perimeter, Inej would have roughly six minutes to cross the wire. Once they passed to the west side, it would be too easy for them to spot her on the wire between the silos, but she’d be almost impossible to see on the roof. During those six minutes, Inej would deal with depositing the weevil in the silo hatch and then detach the line. If it took her longer than six minutes, she’d simply have to wait for the guards to come back around. She’d be unable to see them, but Nina had a powerful bonelight in hand. She would signal Inej with a brief flash of green light when she was clear to make the crossing.
“Ten silos,” Inej said. “Nine crossings.”
“They’re a lot taller up close,” said Nina. “Are you ready for this?”
Inej couldn’t deny they were intimidating. “No matter the height of the mountain, the climbing is the same.”
“That’s not technically true. You need ropes, picks—”
“Don’t be a Matthias.”
Nina covered her mouth in horror. “I’m going to eat twice as much cake to make up for it.”
Inej nodded wisely. “Sound policy.”
The patrol was setting out from the guardhouse again.
“Inej,” Nina said haltingly, “you should know, my power hasn’t been the same since the parem . If we get into a scuffle—”
“No scuffles tonight. We pass through like ghosts.” She gave Nina’s shoulders a squeeze. “And I know no fiercer warrior, powers or not.”
“But—”
“Nina, the guards.”
The patrol had disappeared from view. If they didn’t act now, they would have to wait for the next cycle, and it would put them behind schedule.
“On it,” Nina said, and strode toward the guardhouse.
In the few steps it took her to cross the space from their warehouse lookout to the pool of lamplight bathing the guardhouse, Nina’s whole demeanor changed. Inej couldn’t quite explain it, but her steps grew more tentative, her shoulders drooped slightly. She almost seemed to shrink. She was no longer a trained Grisha, but a young, nervous immigrant hoping for a shred of kindness.
“Please to excuse?” Nina said in a ridiculously thick Ravkan accent.
The guard held his weapon at the ready but didn’t look particularly concerned. “You shouldn’t be here at night.”
Nina murmured something, looking up at him with big green eyes. Inej had no idea she could look so thoroughly wholesome.
“What was that?” said the guard, stepping closer.
Inej made her move. She lit the long fuse on the low-grade flash bomb Wylan had given them, then loped for the fence, keeping well away from that pool of light, climbing silently. She was almost directly behind the guard and Nina, then above them. She could hear their voices as she slipped easily between the coils of razor wire.
“I come for job, yes?” Nina said. “To make sugar.”
“We don’t make it here, just store it. You’ll want to go to one of the processing plants.”
“But I need job. I … I …”
“Oh, hey now, don’t cry. There, there.”
Inej restrained a snort and dropped soundlessly to the ground on the other side of the fence. Through it, she could see the sandbags Kaz had mentioned stacked against the back wall of the guardhouse, and the corner of what must be the net he’d planned for her to use.
“Your … uh … your fella looking for work too?” the guard was asking.
“I have no … how you say? Fella? ”
The gate beside the guardhouse didn’t lock from the inside, so Inej pushed it open, leaving it just barely ajar for Nina, and hurried to the shadows at the base of the nearest silo.
She heard Nina say her goodbyes and walk off in the direction opposite their lookout. Then Inej waited. The minutes passed, and just as she became convinced the bomb was defective, a loud pop sounded and a bright flash of light crackled from the warehouse they’d used to spy on the guards. The guard emerged again, rifle raised, and took a few paces toward the warehouse.
“Hello?” he shouted.
Nina slipped from the shadows behind him and was inside the gate in a matter of moments. She closed it securely and headed for the second silo, disappearing into the dark. From there, she would be able to signal Inej as the guards made their rounds.
The guard returned to his post, walking backward in case some threat still waited in the warehouses beyond. Finally, he turned and gave the gate a shake to make sure it was locked, then headed inside the guardhouse.
Inej waited for the signal from Nina, then scampered up the rungs welded to the side of the silo. One story, two stories, ten. At the carnival, her uncle would have kept the audience entertained during her ascent. No trick like this has ever been attempted before, and certainly never by one so young! Above you, behold the terrifying high wire. A spotlight would come on, lighting the wire so that it looked like the frailest skein of cobweb strung across the tent. Gentlemen, take your lady’s hand in yours. See how slender her fingers are? Now imagine if you will, trying to walk across something so slender, so fragile as that! Who would dare such a thing? Who would dare to defy death itself?
Then Inej would stand at the top of the pole and, hands on hips, shout, “I will!”
And the crowd would gasp.