Kaz wiped a sleeve across his face, smearing blood over his nose and forehead, and spat. He adjusted his gloves, looked down at Per Haskell from the second-story landing, and smiled. His teeth were red and wet. The crowd was far larger than when the fight had begun. He rolled his shoulders. “Who’s next?” he asked, as if he might have an appointment elsewhere. “Who’s coming?” Inej didn’t know how he could keep his voice so steady. “This is what I do all day long. I fight. When was the last time you saw Per Haskell take a punch? Lead a job? Hell, when was the last time you saw him out of his bed before noon?”
“You think we’re going to applaud because you can take a beating?” Per Haskell sneered. “It don’t make up for the trouble you’ve caused. Bringing the law down on the Barrel, kidnapping a mercher’s son—”
“I told you I had no part in that,” Kaz said.
“Pekka Rollins says otherwise.”
“Good to know you take a Dime Lion’s word over one of your own.”
An uneasy murmur passed through the crowd below like a wind rustling the leaves. Your gang was your family, the bond strong as blood.
“You’re crazy enough to cross a merch, Brekker.”
“Crazy enough,” conceded Kaz. “But not stupid enough.”
Now some of the Dregs were muttering to one another, as if they’d never considered Van Eck might have trumped up the charges. Of course they hadn’t. Van Eck was quality. Why would an upright mercher make such a charge against some canal rat if it wasn’t true? And after all, Kaz had gone to great lengths to prove he was capable of anything.
“You were seen on Goedmedbridge with the mercher’s wife,” insisted Per Haskell.
“His wife, not his son. His wife who is home safe, beside her thieving husband, knitting booties and talking to her birds. Think for a minute, Haskell. What possible use could I have for a merch’s brat?”
“Bribery, ransom—”
“I crossed Van Eck because he crossed me and now he’s using the city’s henchmen and Pekka Rollins and all of you to even the score. It’s that simple.”
“I didn’t ask for this trouble, boy. Didn’t ask for it and don’t want it.”
“You wanted everything else I’ve brought to your door, Haskell. You’d still be running the same penny-poor cons and drinking watered-down whiskey if it wasn’t for me. These walls would be falling down around your head. You’ve taken every bit of money and luck I’ve handed you. You ate up the profits from Fifth Harbor and the Crow Club like it was your due, let me do your fighting and your dirty work.” His gaze tracked slowly over the Dregs below. “You all benefited. You reaped the rewards. But first chance you get, you’re ready to cozy up to Pekka Rollins for the pleasure of fitting me for a noose.” Another uneasy rustle from the onlookers. “But I’m not angry.”
There had to be twenty Dregs looking up at Kaz, all of them armed, and yet Inej could have sworn she sensed their relief. Then she understood—the fight was just the opening act. They knew Kaz was tough. They didn’t need him to prove it. This was about what Kaz needed. To attempt a coup against Per Haskell, he would have had to seek out the Dregs individually, wasting time and risking capture on the streets of the Barrel. Now he had an audience, and Per Haskell had been happy to welcome one and all—a bit of entertainment, the dramatic end of Kaz Brekker, the Humbling of Dirtyhands. But this was no cheap comedy. It was a bloody rite, and Per Haskell had let the congregation gather, never realizing that the real performance had yet to begin. Kaz stood upon his pulpit, wounded, bruised, and ready to preach.
“I’m not angry,” Kaz said again. “Not about that. But you know what makes me mad? What really gets me riled? Seeing a crow taking orders from a Dime Lion. Watching you parade around after Pekka Rollins like it’s something to be proud of. One of the deadliest gangs in the Barrel bending like a bunch of new lilies.”
“Rollins has power, boy,” said Per Haskell. “Resources. Lecture me when you’ve been around a few more years. It’s my job to protect this gang, and that’s what I did. I kept them safe from your recklessness.”
“You think you’re safe because you rolled over for Pekka Rollins? You think he’ll be happy to honor this truce? That he won’t get hungry for what you’ve got? Does that sound like Pekka Rollins to you?”
“Hell no,” said Anika.
“Who do you want standing in that doorway when the lion gets hungry? A crow? Or a washed-up rooster who squawks and struts, then sides with a Dime Lion and some dirty merch against one of his own?”
From above, Inej could see the people nearest Per Haskell leaning slightly away from him now. A few were taking long looks at him, at the feather in his hat, at the walking sticks in his hands—Kaz’s cane that they’d seen wielded with such bloody precision and the fake crow cane Haskell had contrived to mock him.
“In the Barrel, we don’t trade in safety,” Kaz said, the abraded burn of his voice carrying over the crowd. “There’s only strength and weakness. You don’t ask for respect. You earn it.” You don’t ask for forgiveness. You earn it. He’d stolen her line. She almost smiled. “I’m not your friend,” he said. “I’m not your father. I’m not going to offer you whiskey or clap you on the back and call you son. But I’ll keep money in our coffers. I’ll keep our enemies scared enough that they’ll scurry when they see that tattoo on your arm. So who do you want in that doorway when Pekka Rollins comes to call?”
The silence swelled, a tick feeding on the prospect of violence.
“Well?” Per Haskell blustered, thrusting his chest out. “Answer him. You want your rightful leader or some jumped-up cripple who can’t even walk straight?”
“I may not walk straight,” said Kaz. “But at least I don’t run from a fight.”
He started down the steps.
Varian had risen from the floor after his fall. Though he didn’t look entirely steady on his feet, he moved toward the stairs, and Inej had to respect his loyalty to Haskell.
Pim pushed off from the wall and blocked Varian’s path. “You’re through,” he said.
“Get Rollins’ men,” Per Haskell commanded Varian. “Raise the alarm!” But Anika drew a long knife and stepped in front of the entry door.
“You a Dime Lion?” she asked. “Or are you Dregs?”
Slowly, his limp pronounced but his back straight, Kaz made his way down the final flight of stairs, leaning heavily on the banister. When he reached the bottom, the remaining crowd parted.
Haskell’s grizzled face was red with fear and indignation. “You’ll never last, boy. Takes more than what you got to get past Pekka Rollins.”
Kaz snatched his cane from Per Haskell’s hand.
“You have two minutes to get out of my house, old man. This city’s price is blood,” said Kaz, “and I’m happy to pay with yours.”
J esper had never seen Kaz so bloodied and banged up—broken nose, split lip, one eye swollen shut. He was clutching his side in a way that made Jesper think at least one of his ribs was broken, and when he coughed into a handkerchief, Jesper saw blood on the white fabric before Kaz shoved it back into his pocket. His limp was worse than ever, but he was still standing, and Anika and Pim were with him. Apparently, they’d left a heavily armed skeleton crew at the Slat in case Pekka got word of Kaz’s coup and decided to try to make a territory grab.
“All Saints,” Jesper said. “So I guess that went well?”
“About as well as expected.”
Matthias shook his head in something between admiration and disbelief. “How many lives do you have, demjin ?”
“One more, I hope.”
Kaz had wriggled out of his coat and managed to yank off his shirt, leaning on the sink in the bathroom.
“For Saints’ sake, let us help you,” said Nina.
Kaz gripped the end of a bandage in his teeth and tore off a piece. “I don’t need your help. Keep working with Colm.”
“What is wrong with him?” Nina grumbled as they went back to the sitting room to drill Colm on his cover story.
“Same thing that’s always wrong with him,” said Jesper. “He’s Kaz Brekker.”
A little more than an hour later, Inej had slipped into the room and handed Kaz a note. It was late afternoon and the windows of the suite were ablaze with buttery gold light.
“Are they coming?” asked Nina.
Inej nodded. “I gave your letter to the guard at the door, and it did the trick. They brought me directly to two members of the Triumvirate.”
“Who did you meet with?” said Kaz.
“Genya Safin and Zoya Nazyalensky.”