Chapter Text
The Astute Tourist’s Guide to Ketterdam, Chapter 4: Culture and Traditions
Day of Prosperity (Almhent): The Day of Prosperity is perhaps the most important of all the days of Ghezen’s Festival. The people of Kerch reflect on the blessings and good fortune they have received over the last year, and thank Ghezen for his benevolence. Naturally, whilst financial prosperity is celebrated, what is perhaps more prevalent is the acknowledgement of a more metaphorical wealth. It is tradition to visit and eat with one’s parents, to thank them for all they have done to ensure comfort and security for the family .
Kaz had a long, long list of faults, Inej reflected as she dropped down from the roof of the harbour master's office, but at least he was punctual.
She’d only been on the roof for about ten minutes when she’d spotted a small group emerging onto the Lid from an alley, one dark shape moving slightly ahead of the others, with much more purpose in his stride. He must have had a runner waiting for them to dock, or he’d been watching himself. Inej could count five people with him, but couldn’t make out much more detail from such a distance. The kids with him were stumbling along in a little herd; there were limits to Kaz’s accommodation and sympathy, it seems, but haste was sensible.
Inej waited down the street as Kaz led the group to the door of a shuttered shop selling various cold weather supplies, picked the lock, and ushered them in. Inej slipped in after them, casting an eye over the assembled. Two Suli girls, one very young, one Ravkan boy, and two older Shu boys probably about her age.
“Is this everyone?” she asked.
All of them jumped; nobody had noticed her, save Kaz, of course, who just gave her a slight nod and retreated a few paces.
“This is Inej Ghafa,” He said to the assembled, first in rapid Ravkan, then surprisingly fluent Shu. “She’s the captain of The Wraith . Her crew will take you home.”
The second he’d finished translating, the brittle tension in the room snapped, and suddenly Inej was being bombarded by earnest thanks, desperate inquiries, anxious questions in myriad languages. One of the Suli girls, the youngest one, had burst into tears and flung her skinny arms around her.
“I prayed and prayed that you would come.” she sobbed in Suli. “The Saints heard me, they really did, I asked for them to send their strongest hero--”
Inej, long used to this, let her cry for a few minutes, doing her best to answer their questions about parents and siblings and where and when they’d dock and this and that, reassuring one of them who was seasick, telling one of the Shu boys that was injured they had medical supplies, trying to soothe some of the guilt burning in her chest. These five could have been safe much sooner if they hadn’t failed to capture the ship back near Os Kervo. If they had, Inej had no doubt others would still be alive.
“I’ll lead you to the ship now. She’ll sail out a few miles and drop anchor, and then we’ll sail for Ravka the day after tomorrow, is that alright?”
At her words, she saw something in Kaz’s expression tighten, but he was silent as he followed them down to the docks. She could never stay long anymore; she hadn’t endeared herself to the Merchant Council, and more often than not they started looking for excuses to detain and search them.
It was only after they’d been ushered onto the ship that Inej turned to their deliverer.
Kaz was standing to the side of the quay, watching her steadily, putting almost all his weight on his cane. He looked, frankly, awful. There was blood on his coat and on his jaw, and he had a spectacular set of bruises flowering on his brow. It was already four bells, and she had no doubt he’d been awake all night.
“Thank you, Kaz.” She said, “I was worried we’d be too late.”
Kaz shrugged slightly.
“Wasn’t too challenging. I was waylaid on the first night of the auction, and the two Shu boys had already gone to the Obscura, but I went and got them."
He said it with the careless air one would use to describe a detour to the shops, but Inej could see his exhaustion.
"No trouble?"
"Nothing I couldn’t handle. They won't be missed. The Obscura won't last the week, anyway."
Inej looked up at him in surprise.
"What did you do?"
“There’s a disgustingly honest lawyer who’s just set up practice. He’s clever, if rather self-righteous. No West Stave boss has been able to get their claws into him yet. I left him an anonymous tip telling him the Obscura has been operating illegally during Ghezen’s Festival, with sham contracts at that.”
“They won’t get them on the sham contacts part. That’s never worked before.”
“Contracts are also considered null and void when they are ‘entered into based on an erroneous belief’. When the contracts are examined, it will be discovered that the Obscura’s boys, many of whom can’t read Kerch, were under the impression they were signing loan contracts with the University.”
Inej took the contract he was holding out to her and scanned it.
"How did you pull off a mass forgery so quickly?"
"Didn't need to. Plenty of them were already shams. Just plant two particularly obvious ones, and the ball starts to roll. The stadwatch and my nice honest lawyer friend will do the rest for us."
"You said this lawyer hasn't been bought by any West Stave owners. Does that mean you're swaying his verdict?"
"No, I'm simply pushing him in the direction of other illegal dealings that aren’t mine. You can't con an honest man, Wraith." Kaz said. A strange edge had entered his tone.
“What held you up the first night?” Inej asked.
“Does it matter?” Kaz said, too aggressively. Inej looked up from the papers and frowned at him. It hadn’t, particularly, until he’d deflected her question so violently.
“Just asking.” She said.
Kaz shifted his weight to his bad leg and back again. He didn’t look at her, but Inej looked at him. It wasn’t just physical injury; Inej could read his face well enough to see the tightness around his eyes, the tense set of his jaw that indicated he was unsettled, maybe almost shaken by something.
“Their ship is docked in Berth 16 of Fourth Harbor.” He said after a moment. “Would be a shame if something were to happen to it and the rest of the crew.”
“It would, wouldn’t it?” Inej agreed, but Kaz’s quiet unease was putting her on edge, too, and she was reluctant to leave; when Kaz was agitated, he was reckless, and he was already fairly badly hurt. But he hadn’t managed to get himself killed in the last two months, and he wouldn’t manage it in the next few hours.
In fact, he seemed to be about to say something else, teetering on the edge of a question. But then he just tipped his hat to her and strode off back down the street. He was limping heavily. Inej's heart sank a little in disappointment, but she shook herself and turned. She had a ship to see.
“Is your friend coming tonight?” Marya asked vaguely, over the remains of a late breakfast. “The mourner.”
Wylan frowned at her. Why was she asking? She only ever joined them for breakfast; she wouldn’t eat with them tonight.
“My friend?”
“With the limp.”
“Oh, Kaz. I’m not sure, he didn’t really--” Marya’s words fully registered with him. “...the mourner?”
“Yes.”
“He just wears black, Ma, he’s not in mourning.”
Marya shook her head.
Wylan, perturbed, thought a little harder and paused.
“Ma, when have you met Kaz?”
“He comes into the house sometimes. When you’re out. He reads your papers.”
“ What? Why didn’t you say?”
“It’s not so important.”
Wylan leant back in his chair and shouted out the doors that led into the garden.
“JES?”
Jesper’s head popped up from where he was hanging paper decorations in the wisteria.
“Yeah?”
“Did you know Kaz has been breaking in to read our papers?”
“No, but now that you say it, that explains quite a lot…”
Wylan huffed in annoyance. He should have known, really; he was the easiest link Kaz had to all the decisions of the Merchant Council.
“And he talks to you?” he asked his mother.
“Yes, sometimes. He’s very polite.”
“Er… really?”
Marya didn’t seem to notice his disbelief.
“It’s nice that he’s coming to see you.” she said.
“I don’t know if he is coming, though.” Wylan reminded her.
“I think he will.” Marya said with certainty. “He’s from the south. Celebrations are important in the south.”
“He’s from the-- south of where? Kerch? Did he tell you that?”
Marya frowned, clearly overwhelmed by the barrage of questions.
“Maybe. I’m not sure.”
Wylan ceased his questioning guiltily.
“Alright, Ma. I guess we’ll find out.”
Maybe they would, or maybe they wouldn’t. Trying to predict what Kaz would do was like trying to anticipate every spot that a lightning storm would hit.
Yet despite it all, against his better judgement Wylan found himself still hoping he would turn up.
Several hours and one unfortunate explosion at Berth 16 later, Inej was heading back up towards the city, slipping in between highly reluctant dock workers on their way to inspect what was left of the ship.
“Of course it had to happen on bloody Ghezen’s, didn’t it?” One man said gloomily as they trudged past Inej without noticing her.
“Bring those Shu blokes out to deal with it,” Another said, “They don’t celebrate, it’ll speed things up. My missus will go spare if I miss dinner with her folks.”
Inej paused for a moment at their words, glancing at the paper decorations strung up in the windows around her. Of course. Kaz had mentioned it, too, but she'd been focused on the kids. It was Ghezen's Festival.
And why should she care? Ghezen wasn’t her God. Nor was he Kaz's, for that matter. But Inej had seen the sentimental value it held for the other Dregs; a chance to see their families, an excuse to go out with their friends, an opportunity to ask out a girl.
Kaz had always scoffed at it, taking it as a callous opportunity to rob merchers who'd gone to the country to see aging parents, or steal expensive jewelry orders.
But his answers to Inej's questions about it had always been a little too detailed; his complaints not quite as cutting as usual, but their jobs a little more merciless. More than once, Inej had caught him standing quietly in the dark at his attic window, watching the lights on the streets below.
He would have been alone all week, Inej reflected. She had no doubt he would have been too wary to accept any Dreg invitations, and far too proud to go anywhere near the Van Eck household.
So where would he go?
"Rooooooo."
Inej glanced down. A three-legged dog of some incomprehensible breed was sitting on the street, peering up at her, thumping his tail on the cobbles.
“Hello.” Inej said, reaching out to scratch his ears. The dog bumped his nose into Inej’s leg, and she noticed something hanging from the scraggly bit of rope that was passing for a collar; a little wire crow.
“Are you... with the Dregs?”
The dog wagged his tail harder and trotted a few paces away, before stopping to look meaningfully over his shoulder. Something surfaced in Inej’s memory; the Ravkan boy’s rapid account of Kaz’s (excessively violent, by the sounds of it) intervention in the auction. He’d mentioned a dog tearing someone’s shoulder out or something equally brutal, and this dog’s snout was speckled with what looked like blood.
“Haz Kaz started training animals to do his dirty work?” Inej asked disapprovingly.
“Rooo!” The dog proclaimed, prancing impatiently about at the end of the same alley Kaz had disappeared down earlier in the day.
“You know where he is?”
“Roo!”
“Alright, then. Lead on.”
It took much longer than expected.
The dog weaved about and doubled back, stopped to chase rats, tried to get people to pet him, and got distracted by close to every single food cart they passed, but every time Inej tried to leave him to go search herself, he would bound after her and tug at her sleeve, or sit at the base of whatever wall she’d climbed and whine.
Eventually, after many wrong turns, they’d weaved through a tangle of abandoned buildings on the headland between Fourth and Fifth Harbour, and been propelled out at the top of a steep, uneven slope leading to a small stretch of stony beach.
Kaz was sitting on a ruined wall of some sort of building, his back to them, looking out towards the water.
The dog rushed towards him eagerly; Kaz said nothing, but he put a gloved hand out, and the dog smashed his nose into his palm with great enthusiasm.
Inej moved forward slowly until she stood to his side, a few paces away. He didn’t turn to face her, but she knew he’d seen her. He always did.
"You introduced yourself to Inej, did you?" Kaz said to the dog after a few moments.
“Rooo.” The dog confirmed and flopped down on Kaz’s feet. Kaz rolled his eyes, but didn’t attempt to remove him.
Then, he glanced at Inej.
“Job done?” He asked.
“For now.” Inej confirmed. “We’re restocking supplies, and then we’ll take them home.”
“You look tired.”
Inej sighed and sat down next to him, scrubbing at her eyes with her palms. Her poorly suppressed guilt was rising back up her throat.
“It’s been a long month. We boarded them outside Os Alta, but there were more than we were expecting; some were Grisha. And they had no qualms about killing their prisoners to save themselves. We should have been more careful.”
“You can’t save everyone, Inej.”
“I can try.” Inej insisted.
“And you have tried, so there’s nothing to regret.” Kaz said firmly.
He was right, and Inej knew it, but her heart had never been rational. But she had also been in Ketterdam long enough to know the best way to survive was to keep moving. All she could do was pray and do penance for those she’d failed to keep safe, and carry on.
“I shouldn’t be making you do my job for me.” She felt the need to say.
“I already said I’d help you however I could, don’t waste energy feeling guilty. If I’d wanted to, I could have left them all in the warehouse. Besides,” Kaz’s expression soured slightly, “It gave me something to do while everyone else was out drinking.”
Inej remembered the paper chains in the windows up in the town.
“I thought robbery was usually your preferred form of amusement over Ghezen’s.”
“Old amusements lose their lustre eventually,” he said after a pause. Inej couldn’t help but be alarmed. Not so much the lack of criminal activity-- she would never discourage any cutting back in that respect-- but the idea that Kaz could be so fatigued. His mind never stopped; something was always being planned or reworked or puzzled out or taken apart. Kaz never stopped; Inej didn’t think he knew how to. She relied on it. The Dregs relied on it. Kaz relied on it. He survived on sheer momentum.
“All of them? You don’t have any heist or fight or ambush planned?”
“If I did, do you think I’d be wasting my time sitting here?” Kaz snapped, careful indifference fraying. Inej couldn’t tell yet if it was anger or misery; the two were largely indistinguishable with Kaz, the latter often mistaken for the former until much later, and the first often caused by the second.
“Well, I suppose it is frowned upon to work over these few days.” she said cautiously, knowing she was venturing into a sore spot.
“Like you already pointed out, since when have I celebrated Ghezen’s?” Kaz snorted. “It's a sentimental tradition, nothing more.”
“You like tradition. You say it makes people predictable.” Inej pointed out. “And today is the Day of Prosperity, isn’t it? That sounds exactly like your type of celebration.”
“As Jesper so cleverly pointed out yesterday, it’s a metaphorical prosperity.” Kaz said bitterly. “It’s tradition to visit family, to thank them for everything they gave you. As I’m sure would not be a surprise for anyone to learn, there’s no damn family for me to visit, and for the one there is, there’s even less to thank the useless bastard for.”
The last words were snarled, and he gestured his cane towards the water aggressively.
“...who are you visiting?” Inej asked, surprised by the outburst.
“Dirtyhands would say he’s honouring the waters that birthed him and let him crawl onto the streets of Ketterdam.” Kaz said coldly.
“And what would Kaz Rietveld say?”
Kaz visibly tensed, and he hesitated for a long moment; long enough for Inej to regret the question, but before she could try and repair the damage, he spoke.
“He would say he’s remembering the brother that the harbour didn’t see fit to raise from the dead.”
“He... drowned?”
Kaz shook his head.
“He was dead long before we reached the water.” he said eventually, slowly, as if he was having to drag each word from his lips. “Everyone was. Except me.” He was staring out into the distance, where the sun was sinking towards the water. ”I wasn't afforded such mercy.”
Inej followed his gaze, across the harbour. Far in the distance was the faint shape of Reaper’s Barge, the flatboat where bodies were burnt. The Barrel still spoke of the awful weeks ten years ago, when its shadow had swelled, engorged with the mountains of corpses in the Queen’s Lady Plague--
Ten years ago.
Legend said Kaz had joined the Dregs around ten years ago, a calculating child with murder in his eyes, who never spoke of where he had come from. Late one evening, not long after Inej had joined the Dregs, Per Haskell had drunkenly demanded of Kaz how he’d survived the plague.
“Little sod like you should have died instantly. How did you avoid it?” He had slurred, flinging his arm around Kaz’s shoulder. Kaz had instantly removed his boss’s arm with the head of his cane, but his motion was automatic, and his gaze was dull and far away.
“Believe me,” he said, “I tried my best to die.”
The table had fallen into an uncomfortable silence. Nobody had pushed further, but Inej could sense them all wondering.
Now, she didn't think she had to wonder anymore.
She could hear the creak of leather as Kaz balled his fists, splayed his fingers, gripped the head of his cane, fighting for some sort of tether.
“The plague?” Inej asked tentatively. He nodded tersely.
“Yes. Because we were on the streets, because we were naive enough to fall right for Rollins’ trap, because Jordie was arrogant enough to think he was better than everyone else, that he would be the one to make his fortune. And I was stupid enough to trust him, to think because he was my big brother that he was always good and right and strong, but he failed us and then he died and the only damn thing he left me with was these fucking gloves.” Something in his voice caught, and he took a deep breath in through his nose, composing himself.
"Last time we saw each other, I said I would try to tell you... what I could." He said after a moment, his tone dulled. "I've promised that before. Each time I say it, I say it with the hope that next time it will feel easier to say. It never does. I suspect it never will."
"You don’t have to tell me everything." Inej said. There was already a cold horror spreading through her from the little he’d already said. She wasn’t sure she was ready to hear it, and Kaz definitely didn’t look ready to say it.
Kaz turned his black gaze on her.
"I didn't have to track down those slavers. I didn't have to break into the Obscura. Just because I don't have to do something doesn't mean I shouldn't do it."
“This is different, Kaz.”
He laughed humourlessly.
“Believe me, I know.”
He offered her his hand.
“But you’re right. I can’t explain. Not today. I’m sorry.”
Inej took it-- he hadn’t taken his gloves off, but it would be cruel to ask any more from him today.
“Today must be difficult.” she said softly.
“It’s always difficult.” Kaz said dully. “Today, it’s just a different kind.”
Inej sat for a moment, thinking of Jordie, Kaz’s older brother. Long dead, preserved only in Kaz’s closely guarded grief, suspended out of time in layers of burning amber. Loved and hated, admired and resented by his little brother.
It seemed so cruel, that Kaz had to spend the day of prosperity mourning all that he had lost.
The dog had wandered off at some point, and was now sniffing around in the shallows. Inej watched him for a while, but she could feel Kaz watching her. She waited.
“What are you thinking?” he said after a while.
"I'm thinking that you're brave." Inej said quietly.
Kaz’s gaze shifted away, instantly uncomfortable with such a notion.
“I think bravery is more suited for others,” he said. ”Like the Saints’ strongest hero, perhaps.”
Inej sighed. He was steering the focus away from himself, back onto her; not that she’d really expected him to accept the statement, but she'd wanted to say it anyway.
Then she paused. How had Kaz known the girl had called her that?
"Kaz-- since when have you known Suli?"
Kaz smiled, unexpectedly. He’d been waiting for this one, hadn’t he?
"Since you spent many years cursing at me under your breath, my dear. You’re surprisingly creative with your insults."
Kaz loved nothing more than sudden revelations, and Inej had been subject to hundreds, but didn’t think she’d ever been more surprised.
"You can't possibly have picked up the whole language just from that!”
Kaz hummed and turned his cane slowly in his hand, peering at the scratches.
“I suppose that’s just one more secret you’ll have to try to steal from the rich men of Ketterdam.”
“Kaz.”
“Oh, please, surely it’s not that surprising-- Hop! Dammit! Get out the water! Hop!”
He’d broken off to yell at the dog, who had gone charging into the sea after a seagull. At the sound of Kaz’s voice, however, he wheeled back around and barrelled their way, trying to jump up at Kaz, who fended him off surprisingly gently with his cane.
“Why couldn’t you just stay here-- no!--”
Hop shook and sprayed them both with a considerable amount of seawater.
“Hop?” Inej said. “ That’s his name?”
“Pim’s not the most creative.” Kaz said.
“Where did he come from?”
“Streets, somewhere. He kept showing up at the Slat, Roeder started feeding him and now we’re stuck with him.” Kaz grumbled, but there was no real annoyance in his voice. Hop was circling Inej with interest, sniffing her ankles, probably wondering why this strange woman was being tolerated for so long by his ill-tempered master.
“He must like you best.” Inej said. “He was looking for you, too.”
Kaz shook his head at Hop.
“You’re pathetically clingy.”
Hop gave a low woof of agreement.
“Speaking of clingy, is Jesper in town?” Inej asked. “I wanted to see him, ask if he knows the fastest route through Weddle.”
“He’s here.” Kaz said. There was an odd, almost guilty expression on his face.
“What?” Inej asked.
“Nothing. He and Wylan asked me round this evening.” he added, too neutrally. Inej watched him carefully.
“Are you going to go?”
“No.”
“Why not?”
Kaz hauled himself to his feet and limped off a few feet into the dying light, probably so Inej couldn’t read his face.
“I have things to see to. And who wants me at any sort of celebration?”
“Well, clearly they do, if they asked you. And if you weren’t planning to go, why did you tell me about it?”
He shrugged.
“Thought you might like to go.”
“But they invited you.”
“I’m not going.” Kaz said firmly.
Despite Kaz’s assertions, as they wound their way back up into Ketterdam, Inej noticed they were definitely headed for the Van Eck house. By seven bells, they were well into the Geldin District; passing bigger houses, with more elaborate decorations, coloured lamps burning in the windows, and the cheering and singing from the Barrel was fading into the warm breeze.
Inej took her time a little, admiring the flower arrangements in browboats and the lights along the bridges, but Kaz was limping along sullenly ahead of her, glaring at the cobbles, giving couples and families and street performers a wide berth. Despite his promising direction, he looked increasingly as if he was going to bolt.
Inej caught up to him silently and slipped her hand lightly into the crook of his arm.
“I’m still waiting for an explanation.” she said in Suli.
“Oh, threaten me at least, Wraith.” Kaz replied in Kerch. “I’m not telling you just because you asked.”
“Who taught you? Was it the juggler on the corner of West Stave? The woman who worked as an indenture for Karl Dryden?”
“There’s thousands of Suli in the city.”
“And I know most of them. What about Bajan? Is he still ‘working for’ Alys Van Eck?”
“Do you think I would admit to anyone that I needed to be taught something?” Kaz said in Suli. Inej was grudgingly impressed.
“You can’t have taught yourself. Your accent is too good.”
“It is, isn’t it?”
Inej gave up, for the moment, but she’d achieved her real purpose; they were standing on the doorstep of Jesper and Wylan’s house.
For a moment, neither of them moved. The Inej noticed a flash of silver slide across Kaz’s knuckles--
“Kaz!”
“What?” he snapped.
“Don’t break in! They invited you, just knock!”
Kaz scowled, slipping his lockpicks back up his sleeve and rapping on the door with the head of his cane. He did it all in one swift movement, akin to the way you would rip off a dressing stuck to a wound.
Wylan yanked the door open almost instantly. He was red-faced and panting; Inej suspected he’d sprinted from the kitchen.
“You’re here!” he blurted.
“You don’t have to sound so disappointed. Don’t worry, I brought Inej to soften the blow. You’d better have got that Shu red out of the wine cellar.” Kaz grumbled, stumping past him into the hall.
Inej knew full well that it hadn’t been disappointment in Wylan’s tone; rather, shock and a considerable amount of relief, conveyed further by the strength with which he turned to beam at her.
“I had no idea you were in town!”
“We docked this morning,” Inej said, “Emergency detour. I’m not here for long, I just wanted to ask Jesper about some routes through Weddle.”
“Will you at least stay for dinner?” Wylan asked her as he crouched to pet Hop, who was demanding some attention, too.
“ Please . I haven’t eaten all day.”
“Did you force Kaz to come over?” Wylan whispered as they headed down the hall. Kaz had already disappeared into the dining room, and Inej could hear Jesper’s voice floating down the hall.
“Not really,” She said, “If he’d not wanted to show, he wouldn’t have told me you’d even invited him.”
Some of the faint anxiety smoothed from Wylan’s face.
“That’s true.” he said, almost to himself.
They entered the dining room, where Jesper and Kaz were standing at the head of the table. Jesper was chatting about something or other enthusiastically, and Kaz was replying in his usual sardonic manner, but he seemed a little distracted. His posture was careful, almost tense, yet his eyes were roving the room, taking in the paper decorations on the walls and at the windows almost greedily. He was clearly trying to choose an angle, and honesty was not on the cards. At least he was here, Inej thought, as she looked about the room herself--
Her jaw dropped.
The table was absolutely laden, hutspot and pork cutlets and roasted vegetables and a million other things Inej didn’t recognise. Coloured candles were dotted amongst it all, and there was also a bottle that looked promisingly like the wine Kaz had been coveting. The two must have been planning this for hours, or months, or weeks.
“Wow.” she managed.
“Does it look alright?” Wylan asked.
“ Inej!” Jesper cried, and galloped across the room to hug her. “And here I was just saying to Kaz he hadn’t brought us a gift!”
Meanwhile, Kaz was frowning faintly at the table. Wylan looked instantly worried again.
“Did you not give your cook the time off?” Kaz asked.
“Of course I did!” Wylan said indignantly. “Me and Jes cooked.”
Kaz raised an eyebrow.
“Hm.”
“He’s impressed.” Inej translated quietly to Wylan as they sat.
“Jesper,” Kaz said after a few minutes, “Are you telling me that you could cook this whole time, and you were just letting yourself and the entire gang survive on overpriced street food and alcohol for years out of sheer laziness?”
He must have been impressed; that was almost a compliment, and despite his indignant protests that he wasn’t paid enough and that just breathing in the Slat kitchen could give one food poisoning, Jesper grinned at the table for a good few minutes.
They ate, and Hop pestered Kaz for scraps and Kaz pretended not to give them to him and everyone else pretended not to notice, and they talked about the dramatic breakup between the leader of the Razorgulls and her boyfriend in the middle of East Stave that Jesper had heard about and Kaz had witnessed in real time, and a jewel thief in Bhez Ju that Inej had met (much to Kaz’s envy, who wanted to know the faster way to get through Fabrikator glass that said thief boasted of), and a play at the Stadlied Opera House that had been so utterly terrible it had become a hit, because everybody was desperate to see such a disaster with their own eyes.
And it was normal. Well, as normal as they would ever manage. And it was nice. And it was only momentary, and tomorrow Inej would sail back into open sea and Kaz would slink back into the Barrel, and Jesper and Wylan would fend off the Merchant Council’s greed. But a moment was more than enough.
“Okay, confession.” Jesper said once their plates were cleared. “We got the chocoladevorm or whatever it’s called from the baker’s.”
Kaz looked up, and for a split second, he looked almost enthusiastic, but then he composed himself.
“Inej, do you have a clean knife?”
“Chocolate… shape?” Inej said in confusion, handing Sankt Petyr to Kaz, who stuck it in the candle flame as Wylan entered carefully, holding a new platter.
“Not a very original name, I’ll grant you.” Kaz said. “It’s just chocolate and butter and biscuits, really, but you mold it and cool it instead of baking-- Ghezen.”
For Wylan had set the cake down on the table, and Inej had to laugh; it had been shaped like a crow.
“Apparently they had loads of requests for it.” Wylan said awkwardly. “I think your gang must have all had a similar idea.”
Kaz shook his head, but Inej could tell he was pleased. When Jesper reached out for it, he held up his hand.
“Hang on. You cut it up with a hot knife.”
“Does that not melt it? Or burn it?” Inej asked.
“It’s best like that.” Kaz said confidently, taking the blade out of the flame.
"How did you know all that? Jesper asked blankly.
Kaz’s eyebrows drew down slightly.
"Why shouldn't I know that? Everyone Kerch knows that."
"So you are Kerch!" Jesper said triumphantly. Kaz frowned at him.
"Of course I'm Kerch. Where did you think I was from?"
"Dunno," Jesper shrugged, "A cave system in the depths of the Ravkan mountains? Some high security prison in the Southern Colonies? Hell?"
"You didn't think I actually crawled out the fucking harbour?" snapped Kaz.
Jesper spread his hands.
"With you, Kaz, who knows?"
"I'm from the south, you idiot," Kaz snapped, "Near Lij. I came to Ketterdam when I was nine."
Inej stared at him, surprised, and Jesper looked equally dumbstruck. Kaz, his cards eternally close to his chest, had just chucked his hand onto the table?
There was a splutter.
" Lij?" Wylan said, once he'd stopped choking on his drink. "That's farmland!"
"Ghezen forbid Kaz Brekker be a mortal man who once lived on a farm. Too unimaginative for you?" Kaz drawled the admonishment, but Inej could sense his tension as he watched the information go ricocheting around the room. That had been a test, of some sort; he was waiting to see how it would settle.
"How… boring." said Jesper. Something relaxed in Kaz’s face.
"I wouldn’t worry. It didn't stay boring."
Jesper lifted his glass to him.
"I can see that."
"At least you know your myth works, Kaz." Inej said.
“And now I know the limit of Jesper’s inference skills, too. But speaking of being a mortal man,” Kaz said, “Do you have any bandages?”
“You know, Kaz,” Wylan said as Kaz observed at his newly blood-soaked shirtsleeve with clinical interest, “I’ve been keeping count, and in the last few years, there have been only two occasions in the last few years upon which you have arrived at this house not stabbed, or shot, or with a broken nose--”
“I waited until after dessert, and I haven’t bled on your rug. Count your blessings. Would you prefer me to slink off and die in an alley?”
“You’re not going to die.” Wylan said, but he didn’t sound sure as Kaz peeled a ruined bandage away from a significant gash on his bicep.
“He wouldn't suffer the indignity of letting us watch him die.” Inej said. “He’ll just be missing, presumed dead for seventy years.”
Kaz nodded thoughtfully, strippping his shirt off at the dining room table and probing the gash on his arm experimentally.
“That way, there’s always the possibility I could darken your door again.” he agreed, picking a needle from the pile of medical supplies Wylan had dumped in front of him. “Keeping you all on your toes from beyond the grave sounds amusing.”
“It’s all part and parcel of being friends with you, Kaz, we’re used to living in tense anticipation.” Jesper said brightly, placing some rubbing alcohol on the table. Kaz shot him a slightly odd look--
“Er-- should we take the dog out?” Wylan said. Hop was charging up and down the hall, barking wildly, having somehow spotted an unfortunate squirrel in the fading light. “It’s still warm outside.”
“Can’ walk far today.” Kaz said around the thread he was holding in his mouth.
“He won’t go if you don’t.”
Kaz yanked the needle through his arm (Jesper winced) and pointed with it.
“He likes Inej.”
“Does he?” Inej said in surprise. “He only met me today.”
“Call him, he’ll come.” Kaz said with great certainty.
“Hop!”
Hop skidded through the doorway almost instantly and sat right at Inej’s feet, looking up at her adoringly.
“Wonder where he got that from?” Jesper said under his breath.
“I will put this through your eye.” Kaz said coolly.
“You three go, then!” Jesper said brightly. “I’ll stay here and supervise the boss.”
“ Supervise?” Kaz repeated, almost indignantly.
“So,” Jesper said eagerly the second the door shut behind Wylan and Inej, “What happened?”
“I knew that’s why you stayed.” Kaz muttered, cleaning blood off his arm. “Don’t worry, they look worse.”
“Worse, or dead?”
A faint smile curved Kaz’s mouth.
“Don’t expect Thyssen at the Merchant Council meetings anymore.”
“You killed him?”
“I didn’t kill him myself, but I was involved in the circumstances of his death, yes.”
Jesper pieced a few things together; rumours about Thyssen, Inej’s presence, Kaz’s odd questions yesterday--
“Did you raid a slaver auction on your own?!” Jesper demanded.
“It worked, didn’t it?” Kaz said.
“You have a death wish, Kaz! How many were there?”
“Only four. One Heartrender and three idiots.”
“A Heart-- Why didn’t you take some of the Dregs?”
“I said they could have these three days off, and I keep my word.” Kaz said. “I took the dog. He was more use than they would have been, frankly.”
“Why didn’t you take me?” Jesper asked sullenly.
“Because if the stadwatch kicks down the door and starts asking questions, you can’t answer what you don’t know.”
“I’d never give you up!”
“But you shouldn’t be in a position where you could.” Kaz said. “You chose to live a safer life, Jes, and I won't be the one who threatens that for you.”
“You didn’t seem to care about that last year when you were having us steal titanium from a military base.” Jesper grumbled.
“No,” Kaz agreed, “But I should have.”
That made Jesper pause. It wasn’t often Kaz admitted he was wrong.
He found his eyes drawn to the wound on Kaz’s arm. It had slashed clean through the tattoo on his bicep; the black R, bold and unmissable and completely enigmatic.
Kaz saw him staring and began to wind a bandage around it silently. Jesper looked away guiltily and began to fiddle with one of the knives on the table.
“You remember the fake name I gave to your father?” Kaz said suddenly as he pulled his shirt back on.
“Yeah,” Jesper said, “Johannus Rietveld. You said he was some farmer from near--”
He stalled. From a town near Lij.
What had Kaz said only minutes before? The south, near Lij.
“You asked me who he really was,” Kaz said, “I said it didn’t matter.”
“Is he… your family?” Jesper asked tentatively.
“No.” Kaz said, and for a second Jesper thought that was all he would say, but then he shook his head and amended his statement. “He doesn’t exist. It’s the name I used to buy back the farm I lived on as a kid.” he hesitated, for a long moment. “Rietveld is my family name.”
Jesper stared at him.
“Brekker’s not your real name?”
“Ghezen, Jesper, I spend my life lying to people and it never occurred to you I might have given myself a fake name?” Kaz snapped, and Jesper was almost relieved at his return to annoyance.
“ We all use our real names.” he pointed out.
“Because you’re all more honest than me.” Kaz snorted.
“But was that not risky? Someone might be able to trace Johannus Rietveld back to you, through Lij or something--”
“There are exactly two people in the world who can connect Kaz Brekker to the Rietveld name, and one of them is you.” Kaz said with finality. Jesper didn’t have to ask who the other one was. He was almost flattered to be in league with the Wraith. “And if they did, so what?” Kaz leant his head forwards and shut his eyes for a moment. “There’s nobody left to hurt with it.”
Jesper saw it again; the odd suggestion of grief, bleeding into the cold granite of Kaz’s face.
“...what about Johannus?” Jesper asked, drumming his fingers on the table agitatedly. A horrible sort of curiosity kept him glued to his seat, still asking questions; he’d never been good at walking away from a losing hand. “Is that one made up? Is there not a connection--”
“No.” Kaz said. His voice had gone hoarse. “It was Jordie’s middle name.”
He passed a hand over his face briefly, and when he next spoke, his words had the same defiantly indifferent quality as his expression.
“Like I said. He’s not here to hurt.”
“...oh.”
There was an uncomfortable silence, in which Jesper came to the sudden, smacking realisation he had spent the last few minutes not just playing russian roulette with Kaz’s carefully guarded past, but skipping merrily through a veritable minefield.
Jordie . Kaz’s infamous slip during their fight at the Geldrenner, snarled in fury.
Someone I trusted.
(What was the saying? To be trusted like a brother?)
Kaz didn’t say anything, staring at the table, wringing his tie through his bare hands. Jesper didn’t speak, either. Maybe it was still harder than it should have been for him to turn his back on disaster, but Kaz was a familiar game, one where he could easily sense when his luck was running out.
Jordie.
He was no Inej, no master thief of secrets, but he would take this one and cradle it close to his chest. It would take a lot more than the stadwatch kicking the door down for him to give this up.
But there was one last question.
“Can I ask one more thing?”
Kaz’s jaw tightened.
“If you must.”
“Kaz is your real first name, right? It’s not like… Gert, or something?”
Kaz laughed abruptly, sharp and surprised and relieved.
“Kaz is my real name.” he said. “Not invented, not shortened. I would swear on it, but my word isn’t worth much.”
“No.” Jesper agreed faintly, turning it all over in his mind.
Kaz pushed himself to his feet, wincing.
“You got an icebox?” He asked. “I need to ice my ribs.”
“Yeah, it’s in the kitchen.” Jesper said, half out of his chair, already leaping at the chance to do something useful. “You want me to go? It’s a lot of stairs--”
“No. I’ll go.” Kaz dismissed him, stubborn as ever, and Jesper drooped back into his chair.
But, just for the briefest second, as he passed him, Kaz laid his hand on Jesper’s shoulder.
Then he was gone, thudding unevenly down the stairs, swearing as he went.
When Wylan entered the sitting room, he found Inej and Jesper with their heads bent over a map of Novyi Zem, trying to trace the fastest route through Weddle. Apparently, Inej and her crew had not made themselves popular with the Zemeni police, and Jesper was currently trying to convince Inej that she could cut straight through a milliner’s shop run by an ‘old friend.’
“She knows me!” Jesper was protesting.
“Okay, but when I say ‘I’m a friend of Jesper Fahey’, is she going to welcome me with open arms, or is she going to start throwing things at me?” Inej said.
“Wylan,” Kaz said over them, and nodded to the chair next to him. Wylan approached cautiously.
Kaz was sitting in one of the chairs by the window, icing his ribs and reading through a suspiciously generous business proposal Wylan had been offered by a trader from Eames Chin. Inej had suggested that Wylan give it to Kaz, in the hope that he’d be able to spot any potential traps; after all, who better than to spot a scam than a master thief? Hop was sitting with his head resting on Kaz’s good knee, and looked positively thrilled he wasn’t being told to go away. But Wylan had noticed something that looked suspiciously like blood on Hop’s snout, and wondered if Kaz’s new affection for the dog might just be more like appreciation for his potential uses.
Wylan sat gingerly as Kaz leafed through the proposal, frowning faintly.
“I actually thought you might have already read that.” Wylan said.
“And why’s that?”
“Ma told me that you've been breaking in to read my papers." Wylan said.
“I’ve said it before, if you don’t want me in your house, change your locks.” Kaz said.
“I’ve already done that twice.”
“To equally easy ones.” Kaz dismissed.
“I’d just give them to you if you asked, you know.” Wylan muttered. A ghost of a smile swept across Kaz’s face.
“Where’s the fun in that, merchling?”
He was silent for a moment longer, then he snapped the pages shut and tapped on the front.
“Have you ever met this trader?”
“No.”
“Are you sure?”
“I’m sure. He’s moving to Ketterdam next month, but he’s never been before.”
“Interesting.”
Kaz was silent for a long moment, staring into space.
“How many people know you can’t read?” He asked bluntly. Wylan blinked, taken aback.
“Er-- I’m… not sure. Quite a few, now.”
“Do the Merchant Council know?”
“Some of them, yes,” he said defensively, ”Why?”
Kaz eyed him suspiciously.
“I’ve told you before that hiding it does no good.”
“I’m not hiding it,” Wylan said sullenly, “I’m just not skipping down to the Exchange and declaring it to the masses.”
“Hm. Well, you were right to be suspicious. Somehow, this guy has found out. He’s trying to lure you into a false deal.”
Wylan felt his face flooding red, despite himself.
“What? But Jesper read it out, he didn’t mention--”
Kaz shook his head.
“He doesn’t say exactly , it’s just the way it's worded. He’s offering to meet with you privately upon my arrival to Ketterdam and give you my history of previous successful silk trades-- on the surface, that seems like he’s proving his legitimacy and offering hospitality, but anyone who jumps to defend their integrity like that has something to hide. That history will be written records, and meeting privately in Kerch business etiquette means just you, nobody else. So no Jesper to read to you. I’d bet both my clubs that those records are nonsense, and he’s relying on you not being able to read them, being too embarrassed to admit it, and entering the deal anyway. Neither of us have ever heard of this merchant; he’s claiming he’s just come into his fortune to cover for that, but if that were true, how would he have had time to build up this history of success?”
Wylan didn’t know if he wanted to punch Kaz or hug him, but both would spell his end, so he just laughed in disbelief.
“How do you always pick up on this stuff?”
“He’s a cheat and a scammer.”
“Takes one to know one?”
“Something like that.” said Kaz drily.
“At least you’re self-aware.” muttered Wylan. A new thought reared its ugly head. “Oh, Ghezen, what if someone else has already done this--”
“Don’t worry, they haven’t.”
“How would you know?”
“Breaking in, remember?”
“You can’t have checked everything so closely.”
Kaz cast him a long-suffering look.
“Why do you think I’ve been reading your papers, merchling?”
“Personal gain?”
“I don’t have any stake in any of your usual trade routes,and I can easily get hold of the minutes from Council meetings. I’m checking people aren’t trying to swindle you.” Kaz snapped.
Wylan stared at him, baffled.
“Why would you do that?”
“Because I risked my neck to steal this house and fortune off your father, and having someone else steal it for themselves would rather undermine my efforts.” Kaz grumbled. Wylan found he didn’t believe him.
“You don’t need to baby me.” he said stoutly. “If I could read--”
“If you could read, I’d still do it, because, frankly, as clever as you are, I’m cleverer than anyone else in the city, scammers and the scammed alike.”
“Narcissist.” Wylan muttered, but he felt a little lighter.
They fell into silence for a while, but something kept Wylan there. Behind them, Jesper and Inej were arguing about the potential of sewers as escape routes.
“I’m surprised you came over.” he admitted eventually.
“I’m full of surprises.” Kaz said neutrally.
“What would you usually be doing on Almhent?” Wylan asked.
“Stealing something expensive, or getting drunk, or both.” Kaz said.
“...Right.”
Kaz was Kerch, and he would have been celebrating all his life; like Wylan, like the Merchant Council, like the family next door and the old woman down the road. How had he celebrated as a child? In his improbably conventional, yet tragically brief childhood in Lij? Had he celebrated with his family? Had he had a family? It was hard to imagine shrewd, brutal, embittered Kaz ever having had the innocence and naivety of a child.
“Yes, I had parents, merchling, I'm not a medical miracle." Kaz said irritably.
Wylan winced at both the past tense and how easily Kaz had tracked his train of thought.
“My mother calls you the mourner.” he blurted.
Kaz paused. He was silent for a long moment, and Wylan anticipated being grabbed by the throat and threatened in a reprise of Black Veil--
"Ironic, isn’t it? No mourners, no funerals. Yet Marya assigns me chief mourner."
He didn't sound angry. Or confused.
"That saying means that there won't be anyone to mourn us when we die, though." Wylan said tentatively, "Not that we can't be mourners ourselves."
“That’s true.” Kaz said slowly. "It wasn’t always as fatalistic as we’ve made it. Once, it was only one more piece of wishful thinking. No more mourners. No more funerals.” He was staring out the window, at the boathouse at the bottom of the garden, where they'd all laid flowers on Matthias' body. "A fool’s hope."
Outside, the sky was slowly lightening to the weak grey of morning.
“Why did you invite me, Wylan?” Kaz said eventually. Wylan’s heart clunked in dread. He’d been expecting the question, had approached him meaning to answer it; he knew that Kaz had been taken aback at the invite, and he would have been dissecting it in some corner of his mind ever since. Mysteries did not go unsolved for Kaz Brekker.
“Ah. Well… I know this probably isn’t… the greatest time of the year for you…”
Kaz arched an eyebrow. Wylan, feeling foolish, rushed on.
“But today’s for thanks, right? And I wanted to say thank you. Properly.”
“What for?”
“Er… you know…” Wylan took a deep breath. “For letting me find out my mother was still alive. For forging my father’s will. For getting us out of that mess, for handing me and Jes the life we have now. And for stopping me from getting swindled. Even though I didn’t know that until just now. For just… I don’t know. Looking out for me.”
Kaz’s mouth pressed into a thin line, but it wasn’t anger; he looked almost uncomfortable.
“You forget I also got us into that mess, and you know as well as I do I always have my own reasons for--”
“You always do this!” Wylan said in exasperation. “You do something decent or good and then try to distance yourself from it as much as possible because it doesn’t match your image--”
“You sound exactly like Inej.” Kaz growled. “Start a shrine to Sankt Kaz and leave me out of it.”
“Look, Kaz. Ghezen’s Festival was fun for me as a kid, but then Almhent just became a tool for my father to remind me how much of a burden I was, how I owed everything to him and gave him nothing of use. This year was finally a chance for me to enjoy it--”
“And you invited me?”
“Do you know you were the first person I ever told that I can’t read?” Wylan demanded in a low hiss, finally out of patience. “I was terrified that I would become useless to you, like I had to my father. But you didn’t laugh, you didn’t pity me and you didn’t treat me any damn differently. Do you have any idea how much that meant? Yes, you’re arrogant and rude and vengeful and violent, and I know you’ve been alone for a long time and you’re not very used to stuff like this, but you’re my friend, and I owe you a lot, and I don’t know how else to get it through your head!”
There was a long silence. Even Hop looked surprised.
“Sorry.” Wylan mumbled. “That was a bit much.”
Then Kaz cleared his throat.
“You know, Wylan, being stubborn, astute and sincere is a bad combination. It’ll get you in a lot of trouble one day.”
From anyone else, it would have sounded like a reprimand, or a threat. From Kaz, it sounded like approval.
Kaz woke with a start just as the sun began to claw its way over the horizon, disoriented and unsure where he was.
He was surprised and annoyed to discover he was still in Wylan’s sitting room, slumped in an armchair. Inej was curled up in one of the desk chairs, still surrounded by the maps she and Jesper had been debating, and Jesper and Wylan were sprawled on the sofa, as was their usual habit. Jesper had ended up wedged in between Wylan, the backboard of the sofa and the cushions, and was only half visible. He was somehow sound asleep, and Kaz felt compelled to watch him for a moment, to check he was breathing.
Once he was satisfied the sharpshooter wasn’t crushed to death, Kaz picked up his cane and stood.
Kaz began to make for the door--
Someone grabbed his hand.
Kaz flinched, unable to help it, but it was only Inej reaching out blindly for him as he passed, barely awake.
“You’re leaving.” she mumbled.
“No.” Kaz lied.
“Always do.”
“So do you.” Kaz pointed out defensively. Inej frowned slightly, dark brows creasing.
“I’ll always come back.” she protested. “You know that.”
But I’m always afraid you won’t , he thought.
“I know.” he said.
After a moment, Inej’s grip slackened.
“If we always have to leave,” she said faintly, slipping back into sleep, “I wish you’d say goodbye.”
Kaz bent his head and kissed the back of her hand lightly, then gently untangled their fingers.
“I know.” he said again.
He knew what she thought; he never said goodbye because he just let go, coldly and abruptly. Dirtyhands cutting his losses and moving on.
But to try to say goodbye, to look her in the eye and wish her well and safe, and know that the words were useless, that nothing he could say could protect her from the cruelty of the sea and those who sailed it? Kaz didn’t trust himself not to fling himself to his knees and beg her to stay.
He turned for the door and almost had a heart attack.
Hop was standing silently in front of him, watching him solemnly.
“Stay, Hop.” Kaz muttered. But the dog followed him to the door, his stare looking more and more judgemental.
“What?” Kaz hissed.
Hop looked over at the others, then back at Kaz, then slowly sat down right in front of the door. Damn dog. How did he always know?
Kaz tried to step around him, and Hop rumbled a threat of a bark.
“Bark and I’ll put you on a boat to Shu Han.” Kaz murmured, but he didn’t move again. Reluctantly, he turned to face the room again.
Despite himself, despite his commitments to ruthlessness and callousness and cruelty, Kaz didn’t ever let go. Everything he had ever lost had been torn from him, and the wounds were still raw and weeping. He’d once told Pekka Rollins that he nurtured his grudges, and that was true, but he nursed everything else just as carefully. Tales of Droessen the Clockmaker, old folk songs, every petty argument with his brother, every bickering match with Jesper. Suli grammar, Shu tones, Matthias’ insults as he’d dutifully and sullenly followed Kaz’s plans, Hop following him stubbornly down the street. Nina’s letters from Fjerda, full of unsolicited remarks and rude comments about his hair, Wylan’s nervous enthusiasm as they’d sat down to eat, fights and arguments and escapes. Inej, every memory of her gilded and golden, threaded throughout it all.
Maybe you did have to keep moving to survive, but maybe soon Kaz would finally have to accept that he didn’t have to go on alone.
One day.
Hop had stood uncertainly, confused at Kaz’s sudden inaction.
Kaz looked at him.
He wagged his tail hopefully.
When he left, Kaz shut the door behind him.
Nobody had expected Kaz to stay, so nobody commented on his absence when they woke the next morning. Even so, Wylan saw the hastily suppressed jumble of emotion cross Inej’s face; anger, hurt, resignation. But she was silent as she moved softly to the windows and looked out.
The sun was obnoxiously bright already, working itself into creating a stifling heat that would make the streets unbearable and everywhere else even worse. It stung Wylan’s eyes, and it was odd to see Inej so starkly lit. On days like this, there were few places for her to hide.
Eventually, when they finally managed to rescue Jesper from the jaws of the sofa, they dragged themselves into the dining room in silence, Marya was sitting at the breakfast table, waiting for them.
But she wasn’t alone.
“You know, I think I might be the only rich man in the world who isn’t spectacularly lazy.” Kaz said archly.
Inej beamed .
“Come on, Kaz, it’s only ten bells! You just haven’t had a good night’s sleep since the womb.” Jesper said cheerfully, tearing a roll apart and chucking half to Hop, who had come shambling out from under the table to greet them.
“Did you cook ?” Wylan said in disbelief.
“Don’t be ridiculous.” Kaz dismissed. “I went to the Kooperom, they have a sale after Ghezen’s to get rid of the extra stock.”
“How can you be so rich and still be a cheapskate?” Jesper sighed, but he was opening boxes eagerly. “Did you get their eggs? Please tell me you got the eggs.”
“This is...suspiciously nice of you.” Wylan said. “Are you planning to poison us all as part of some scheme?”
“I’ll give you a moment to check your will’s up to date.” Kaz said. But he wasn’t looking at him, and Wylan wondered if this was an uneasy repayment of Wylan’s invitation. Neither of them liked to feel as if they owed anyone anything; in which case, this would keep going forever. But Wylan knew there were much worse things to be indebted to Kaz for than Kooperom food.
“I don’t care if it’s poisoned, I’m starving.” Inej said, pulling a plate towards her. “And I’m pretty sure years of Slat food gave me immunity to all forms of poison.”
“Poisoning is sadly inefficient in the Barrel.” Kaz agreed, much too knowingly.
“Eat at Sten’s Stockpot once, and hemlock is child’s play.” Jesper said.
“We tried to feed Hop Sten’s Special,” Kaz said, “Even he wouldn’t eat it.”
Hop whined.
“The Barrel...” Marya said suddenly, “Is the wisteria part of it now?”
Everyone turned to stare through the open patio doors into the garden. A teenage boy was passed out in a heap under the wisteria, amongst various scattered flowers. How the hell had he gotten in? Hop had gone over and was sniffing around his head.
“Niels from the Liddies.” Kaz recognised as they all turned to peer into the garden. “He’ll get up eventually. He’s a dumb country kid with a thing for a merchant’s daughter, he probably wandered this way last night and got lost.”
“A merchant’s daughter?” Wylan repeated. “That won’t end well.”
“Worked for me.” Jesper winked. Wylan couldn’t suppress a grin in return, but the wisteria had suddenly sparked a memory of yesterday’s breakfast.
“Oh-- Kaz, how did Ma know you were from Lij before we did?”
Kaz looked up sharply.
“What?” he demanded.
“She said you were from the south.”
Kaz twisted in his seat to look at Marya, who had risen and was wandering out.
“Mrs Van Eck,” Kaz said, his tone polite but tense, “How did you know I was from the south?”
“Your vowels.” Marya said over her shoulder, not stopping. “They’re very abrupt.”
Kaz looked affronted and slightly relieved.
“I thought I got rid of that.” he muttered to himself, watching Wylan’s mother depart.
“To be honest, I think most people are so frightened to be talking to you, nobody thinks too much about your vowels.” Wylan said.
“Yeah, and it used to be a lot worse,” Jesper said helpfully, “But me and Inej aren’t Kerch native so it didn’t mean anything to us.”
“That reminds me-- did you know Kaz knows Suli, Jes?” Inej said. “And Ravkan, and Shu?”
“And Zemeni.” Kaz said smugly.
Jesper paused with his fork halfway to his mouth.
“And Zemeni?” he repeated.
“And Zemeni.” Kaz confirmed.
“How are you on Zemeni insults muttered behind backs after orders were issued?”
“Fairly proficient.”
“Oh, dear.”
“Quite.”
“Did you not teach him Suli?” Wylan asked Inej.
“No!” Inej said indignantly. “I have no idea where he learned any of them, least of all Suli, and he thinks it’s hilarious! ”
“It is highly amusing, and I can’t wait to see Nina’s face when she realises she was translating needlessly for me for many, many hours of her life.” Kaz said with satisfaction.
“She’s going to kill you.” Inej told him. “I’m tempted, myself.”
Kaz smiled and said something to her in Suli. Inej suddenly looked rather flustered.
“I have no idea what that was, but save it, I’m eating.” Jesper complained.
“You’re one to talk,” Kaz pointed out, but his attention had been caught by something; he stood and limped to the window, staring over the fence and down the street at one of the biggest houses in the district; furniture was being carried inside by a parade of servants, and the windows were being cleaned.
“Wylan, is that going to be home to our fraudulent trader friend from Eames Chin?”
“Yes, I think so.”
“Excellent.” Kaz said, still eyeing the house greedily. “How convenient. I want you to tell him you’re not interested in the deal, but that you have an acquaintance you can introduce him to, who would be delighted to invest.”
“Kaz, I can’t associate with you officially without ending up in Hellgate, and I know for a fact that every new arrival to town is handed a warning pamphlet with your face on it.“ Wylan pointed out.
“Oh, I got one when we docked.” Inej said. “It’s not a very good likeness.”
“It’s terrible, isn’t it? Don’t worry, Wylan, you won’t be introducing me as Kaz Brekker.” Kaz said vaguely, gaze far away.
“Scheming face.” Jesper whispered.
“Definitely,” Inej said, and Wylan could hear the relief in her tone.
Note: The Kerch Tourism Society and the contributors to ‘The Astute Tourist’s Guide To Ketterdam’ have duly warned visitors of the city’s risks, and deny any responsibility for any incidents that may arise during the Ghezen’s Festival celebrations. It would also be prudent to note that while the majority of the city’s gangs lie low during this period, some of the more faithless & irreverent amongst them may still be active. We have taken the liberty of highlighting one such man for your safety; a conman by the name of Kaz Brekker (pictured below.) He has no personal ties and adheres to no traditions. He will not be sympathetic to the frivolity of this period. If you are unfortunate enough to run into this man, The Kerch Tourism Society extend their apologies and sympathies, but we cannot reimburse you for lost money, injuries, or funeral costs.