Chapter Text
This story began with a deal.
Jordie had shaken Mister Hertzoon’s hand, signed the paper. It had been his mistake. And it had landed them here, sick and in the back of an alley. Jordie’s limbs were frozen as Kaz’s pox-spattered face leaned over him, his hands icy on Jordie's bare arm. Jordie’s veins pumped liquid fire through his body. It burned each organ, toasted every finger. His body thirsted for a sip of cool water, anything to wash the lava away. If only he could bring it to him, but Da didn’t like him using his powers. But he wasn’t there, he never would be, and it hurt too much. He reached out with the strange longing inside of him for water, grasping every last bit of moisture in the air. It beaded on his skin and the fire began to recede as the darkness enveloped him.
Adrie van Oerwoed refused to let the stupid boy die. She didn’t care if she had to go find a Corpalnik to keep him breathing. Hell, she’d let him stay in a coma for the rest of his life. But for Ghezen’s damned sake, he needed to live.
He’d managed it thus far. The boy had been asleep for a few days already. When Adrie had first retrieved him, he was just barely breathing and the water on his skin steamed like it was over a fire. She’d been watching him ever since. He’d cooled down a bit; a relief, really, because he had a strange habit of drawing water to his flushed skin, and the steam got rather hot. His chest rose in steady breaths, and a handful of the angry red pock-marks covering his body were beginning to fade. In all, he was in remarkably better shape than he had been—something she liked to attribute to her own efforts—yet he still stubbornly refused to wake up.
She still wasn't quite sure why she'd saved the boy in the first place. She'd felt him in the water when he'd sent ripples through the harbor like a strange signal. The water slapped at the walls of the tower, sending the waves straight up to her chest and splashing at her heart. It was a strange call of urgency, a cry for help. She hurried to the window. Her eyes followed the ripples to their source—one of the rigs covered in corpses.
Rian had forbidden them from leaving the towers no matter what when the plague hit. She didn't want an outbreak amongst them, she’d said. Grisha may be powerful, but they were just as susceptible to disease as anyone. But Adrie couldn’t ignore the signal. She'd huffed and pulled her hood up and started down the stairs. Perhaps if she didn't truly leave the tower, it would be alright.
On the lowest level, the tower opened up to the harbor. She bolted the door shut at the top of the stairs and made her way down to the sandy ground. She stepped into the shallows. The water seeped through her socks and clung to her books like desperate children fleeing a scene. She closed her eyes to listen to the water’s cries. It was coming from a young body, hardly larger than a child. They had to be alive—after all, there was no other way they could be causing the ripples in the first place. A young Tidemaker, buried in the bodies. Of course.
The water carried the child's long-ago sobs. They echoed in her ears. The child's feverish heat bled into her, warming her chest. She reached out through the water, calling for it to pull them under.
As she drew him to her, she heard footsteps pattering above. A heavy fist pounded on the door. The others were coming. The current carrying the body was still too far away. She clenched her fist, speeding up the current.
"What are you doing down there?" A familiar gruff voice yelled from above. She gritted her teeth. Her arms tingled with power, and her legs grew wet as water snaked their way upwards. There was more banging at the door.
After a long stretch of a few seconds that seemed to pass for eternity, a small boy washed up beside her. He was pale as seafoam and covered in the red pock-marks of the Queen's Lady, perhaps thirteen. Ghezen help me, she thought bitterly as the door crashed open. Her eyes wide, she looked up.
Henrik paused at the top of the stairs, staring at her. He blinked at the boy, and then at her. "Adrie. What is this?"
"He's a Tidemaker, don't worry!" She explained hastily as he began to tromp down the steps. "He was dying, and I felt like I ought to save him. I didn't even realize he was sick!"
Henrik let out a drawn-out sigh and scrubbed a hand over his face. "Djel help me, of course you did. Rian's going to drown you."
"Not if she doesn't know."
"She'd figure you out in a minute. She always does." He tilted his head and stared down at the boy again. "On second thought, you may not even need to worry. He looks half dead already."
"Just help me bring him up to my room, would you? Perhaps I'll wait to tell the others until he's healed from the plague, so Rian won't get mad. No harm done if they don't know about the harm having been present, eh?"
"That's..." His shoulders rose and fell with his huff. "Nevermind. If I get the plague, it's on you." Adrie's breathy laugh echoed through the chamber as Henrik leaned down to scoop up the boy.
She'd made it so far without anyone else finding out about the strange boy in her bed. Rian knew something was up, but hadn't pinpointed anything specific yet as far as Adrie knew. And so she had spent the past few days watching and waiting. It got rather boring, after a while, but she couldn't risk him waking while she was gone and him leaving the room. There would certainly be questions if a boy who looked more like a drowned ghost than a living Grisha was found wandering out of her room.
She hummed out of nothing but sheer boredom and brushed some of the black hair plastered to his sweat-sheened forehead back. He hummed in return and shifted his position just so slightly. A gentle sign of life.
"How is he doing?" Henrik had appeared in the doorway.
"Close the door, idiot," Adrie hissed. He complied and raised a blond eyebrow at her. "Thank you. He's still alive. He may be up any day now, hopefully."
"Or perhaps now."
"Hmm?" She followed his gaze back to the boy, who let out a tired moan. His eyelids fluttered. "Shit, he is." He muttered something incoherent and stretched his arms before his eyes fully opened.
"Where'm I?" His voice was hoarse and raw.
"Safe," Adrie replied gently. A confused frown broke across his face, and his eyes grew a bit unfocused as he seemed to consider something. "Are you alright?"
His eyes widened and he sat up a bit in the bed. "Where's Kaz? Kaz, no, he—"
Adrie shared a furrowed look with Henrik. "I don't—"
"Kaz! My brother, please, he's sick too, you have to help him! He—" and then the boy burst into a fit of hacking coughs. His shoulders quaked with the force. The sound— a wet, nauseating sound— wormed its way through Adrie's ears and churned her stomach. By the time they subsided, his eyes were glimmering. Adrie pressed her lips together. The boy was in pain in more ways than one, and she wasn't quite sure how to help.
"Alright, what's your name?"
"Jordie."
"Well, Jordie, I'm Adrie, and that's Henrik. I'm really sorry, but I don't know anything about your brother."
"You don't understand, I can't leave him alone," he choked out. His voice was barely more than a whisper. "I can't let him down. I can't do it again."
Adrie wasn't sure what to say. She knew Jordie's brother was more likely dead than not, but the kid was upset already and she didn't have the heart to break it to him. He would figure it out on his own time, surely. "Why don't you just sleep, alright? I can explain everything later. You need rest." He nodded slowly and settled back into the bed. His eyes were faraway pits as he stared up at the ceiling. For a long moment, he hardly moved. If she didn’t know better, Adrie would’ve been concerned he was dead. But then he closed those glassy eyes, and his chest began to rise and fall with the breath of sleep.
“What will you do with him?” Henrik murmured. He was leaning against the wall with his hands clasped underneath the sleeves of his long blue cloak as if making a feeble attempt to blend in with the grey stone walls.
“I’ll teach him myself if I have to. I saved him, I’m not letting him go now. I don’t care what Rian dares say.”
“And how will you tell the others that you’ve kidnapped a young Tidemaker from a Reaper’s Barge?”
“We’ll figure that out when he awakes again.” She adjusted her own cloak and spared another look back at the boy. “All will be clearer then.”
It took nearly two days for him to wake, and things definitely did not make much more sense. Adrie had nearly fallen over when she walked into her room to find Jordie sitting up in the bed. With his blank stare at the woolen blanket, he looked just about as lost as he had when he’d fallen asleep. He looked up when she stumbled in the doorway. “You’re awake!” she said.
“I’m awake.” Now that his voice was a bit clearer than the previous time, she noticed he had the slightest hint of a southern Kerch accent. He wasn’t from the city, then. “Where are we? Why am I here?” The implication of a boy who wasn’t there hung in the air like the water-bloated corpse that Adrie suspected floated in the ocean. Adrie sighed and sat down at the foot of the bed. She was reminded of her mother, about to give a heart-to-heart. It was ironic, really, considering she couldn't be more than a decade older than the boy.
"You called for help. I couldn't get close, but I used the water to bring you here."
He perked up slightly. "So you're a Tidemaker?"
"I am. And so are you, Jordie."
"I know…" He frowned down at his bony, spotted hands. "Da always said it was a secret. He wouldn't let me tell Kaz. He said things like this were too dangerous for anyone else to know about."
She'd known he had a family, of course. She knew about the ill-fated brother. But a father was new and made things all the more dangerous. If he still lived with his father, and the man was searching desperately for his son… she wouldn’t make the man go through what her family did. Granted, she’d run and joined the Council willingly. Either way, it was a rather irritating thing to bring up. “Do you need to speak with your father?”
“I can't. He's dead.”
Thank Ghezen. “And your mother?”
“She died when Kaz was born. And Kaz… well, he probably can't come here from wherever he is. I’m alone now, I think.”
“Well, I’ll make sure you have a family here, alright? When I first came here, I’d left my parents, my friends, my life. I joined the navy to escape to Kerch. The Tides found me and took me in and trained me to use my abilities instead of hiding them like I’d been taught my whole life. They’re more of a family than I’ve ever had.”
“Wait… you’re a Tide? Like the ones who live in the big towers?” Adrie nodded. She’d forgotten to mention the fact, she supposed. Jordie’s eyes widened as comically as an actor in the traveling Komedie Brute shows she used to catch back in the navy. “I get to be one of them?”
“Mhm. But, before we can do anything else, we have someone we need to speak to. Are you alright to get up?”
She held out a hand to help him to his feet. He took it and slid out of the bed. A grimace crossed his face as he swayed a bit. He shook his head at her raised eyebrow and placed a hand on the wall to better steady himself. “I’m alright, don’t worry.”
“We can’t have you swooning all over Rian, she’d kick you out then and there,” Adrie muttered under her breath. Jordie looked up at her curiously, and she shook her head. “Just get back in bed, I’ll go get her to come here instead.”
“No, I’m fine, really—”
“ Stay.” Jordie fell back onto the bed with pursed lips as Adrie started towards the door. Once she was confident enough that Jordie wouldn’t attempt to follow her, she headed up the stairs. Rian was nearly always on the roof during the day. She said it was because she had to stay vigilant to set a better example for them, but Adrie suspected she just enjoyed the view and the dramatics.
As she cracked open the trapdoor to the top of the tower, the view was indeed what first caught her eye. The smoky city stretched on in one direction, the glimmering blue sea in the other. One a center of commerce, the other the heart of all that mattered to Adrie and everyone else in the tower. A familiar robed silhouette stood at the roof’s edge, weathered and calloused hands clasped behind her back. A gust of wind sent the figure’s blonde hair flying away and a large whiff of the salty seawater smell up Adrie’s nose. When she’d first arrived, the smell was obnoxious, but the scent had an irritating habit of lingering in every nook and cranny of every tower, so she’d grown practically blind to it.
“Who is it?” the figure called in her thick Ravkan accent.
“Adrie.”
“You’ve been strange the past few days. You’re hiding something, is that what this is about?”
“It is. Would you be willing to come down to my room for a moment and… discuss it?”
Rian finally turned around. She stared at Adrie a moment with her lined eyes before nodding curtly. “Very well.”
Jordie was sitting up when Adrie returned to the room. He eyed Rian curiously.
"Adrie, who is this?" Adrie shot a look at Jordie. He blinked and cleared his throat.
"Jordan Rietveld, miss."
Rian turned back to Adrie. Her eyes were stormy oceans, churning with thunder. "You know what I told all of you about the plague. You were not to leave the tower, and certainly not bring an infected boy to us. You've put us all in danger."
"He was dying, and I never even left the tower! You always mention how there never seems to be enough of us, anyways, and he's a Tidemaker." Rian's glower didn't falter. Adrie had been hoping she would cave sooner. "Ghezen, Rian, I’ll even train him myself. Give me the two years, and he’ll be just as good as any of us, I promise.”
“Yourself? You’re our newest Tide, you’re not qualified. But, if Henrik will help you—” Adrie stared at her with wide eyes. “I know Henrik knows, it was quite obvious. But if he helps you, the boy may stay. If he’s unprepared for initiation two years hence, or, Saints forbid, gives one of us the Queen’s Lady, your position here may be drawn into question. Will you risk your standing for some diseased teenager?” Jordie, in true teenager fashion, gave a roll of his eyes. Adrie donned a slight smile at his reaction and nodded.
“Of course. And he’s not even contagious anymore, surely!”
“Alright. He can take Morgan’s room, I’ve been meaning to transfer him to the Imperjum tower, anyways.” She gave a flip of her blond hair and placed a firm hand on Adrie’s shoulder, her fingers bearing in like dull claws. She leaned in and lowered her voice to barely a breath in her ear. “Remember what happens to those who aren't meant to be here.” The slightest chill coursed down Adrie’s spine like ice. She met Rian’s steely gaze and nodded stiffly.
“Of course.”
“Good luck.” She nodded to Jordie. “It was a pleasure meeting you, Mister Rietveld. I look forward to your progress.” With that she turned on her heel and marched out, her blue robes flaring out behind her as if blowing in a sharp ocean gust.
Adrie released a shaky breath the moment the door slammed shut. She’d assumed Rian wouldn’t be the most pleased with Jordie’s presence, of course, but she hadn’t expected… well, that. She was stuck teaching the boy, it seemed, which did not seem fated to go well. Rian would test him in two years and he would be the largest failure the Tides had ever seen and things would be done for both him and her. Had she just agreed to her own downfall from the obelisk tower? Perhaps she had now destined herself to lose her robes and end up sent back to the navy with an oath of silence forced on her, or more likely dead. And things would likely only be worse for the boy. Perhaps the decision was rash, but there would be no going back. The boy would have to be great, for both of their sakes.
“You shouldn’t have done that.”
She looked up sharply at Jordie. “Hmm?”
“You shouldn’t have done all of that for me. I don’t like it.” He pressed his lips together and stared the blanket down as if it were a ghastly and affronting sight. "You don't have to help me, you know. I can go back to the city. I'll find my brother and be out of your hair. I already have plans on how to live there and everything."
"You wouldn't be allowed to even if I wanted to let you. You've seen our tower and our faces, and that's never allowed out. You're one of us now, whether you like it or not." His frown deepened, but he gave a brief nod.
"Fine. When do we have to start?"
"When you're ready. Considering you can hardly stand and look like you were attacked by a swarm of bugs, it may be a while. Just get some rest and don't worry about it for now, eh?" She gave Jordie one last smile and headed towards the door.
Notes:
Next chapter: Jordie's training as a Tide!
Chapter 2: Jordie
Notes:
Just a heads up, there's a fairly detailed description of fainting in this chapter
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
All his life, Jordie had grown used to only using his powers in private. A swallow of water on a hot day, a swirl in the air in the confines of his room. Da had always gotten mad when he used them. He would yell and send him out to work the plow and stand on the porch to watch so he couldn't use them in secret. In some messed up way, a part of him had been relieved when he discovered his father's crushed body next to the plow. Even then, though, he didn't use them. Things had already changed too much for Kaz, and he'd heard the fates of Grisha in Ketterdam. He wouldn’t risk it. But now, it made it all that much harder to actually use them for Adrie.
On the first day of their training, she woke him up with a jet of water to the face and tossed him a set of robes. They were a lighter blue than the ones the rest of the Tides he’d met had been wearing, and were surprisingly comfortable. She marched him out to the rocky shores just outside the tower. “Alright, every Tide begins their training the same way. It’s a simple test. All you need to do is create ice out of the air around you.” She waved a hand, and a small chunk of ice swirled to life in her palm. “No moving closer to the water, you must stay standing here. I will be watching from the tower. Are you ready?”
Jordie nodded. After all, how hard could it be? It was just water, only colder. “I can do that.”
“Good luck.” She winked at him and turned on her heel back towards the looming black tower.
Jordie sighed. This should be no problem. He held out a hand, his palm facing up, just as Adrie had a moment before. He reached for the strange feeling buried deep within him and grasped the air with it, searching for any little bit of water he could grab. But it felt different. It felt as if there wasn't any water in the air at all, nothing for the strange power within him to latch onto. It was entirely wrong.
What if his power wasn’t working because of his sickness, or what happened in the harbor? What if, when he nearly died, his Grisha abilities died too? What if he was a fraud? He cast a glance up at the black obelisk, but he couldn’t make out any of the windows from this angle. Adrie couldn’t help him. He was on his own.
He called the feeling back from the deep depths where it resided. He searched again, straining desperately for anything familiar in the air. His head pounded, his stomach spun. It was as if the dry air was dehydrating him to match it. He stared at the water in the harbor disappearing off into the distance, a wide expanse that seemed almost mocking. It seemed strangely distorted, almost like he was looking at it through a bubbly piece of glass, and black fuzz crept at the edges of his vision.
His head began to whirl at a speed matching his stomach, and the bubbles dotting his vision darkened and doubled. The sun was hot enough to have a pulsing heartbeat of its own. He had to keep going, but the air was dry and suffocating and his legs were weak. His head gave a final whish around, ticking as it spun like a Makker’s wheel, slowing to a stop as his vision faded to a near black.
Then there were distant shouts and a plunge towards the ground and rough hands tearing away his robes and his own hands reaching out for purchase but only grasping air and the soaked rocks of the beach. And then he was laying on the rocks, his black-stained vision slowly giving out to a blue sky. Adrie’s sandy face was looking down at him. Her brows weren’t furrowed and her mouth wasn’t quirked downwards in concern like he would have expected. Instead she looked only vaguely troubled, a look reading more ‘well that was a bit unfortunate’ instead of the expected concern for his safety and wellbeing. In fact, she voiced the exact thought her look read as she peered down at him. He groaned and covered his eyes from the blaring sun.
“What happened?” he said.
“Exactly what was supposed to happen.” A bit of cheeriness was crawling back into her voice. “Well, the fainting was unexpected. But no matter, it’s happened before.” She held out a hand to him to help him to his feet. He took it, his head protesting by giving another spin at the stupid gaming wheel that had apparently taken root up in there while his legs quivered in protest. Adrie held out his robes, which were laying discarded on the rocks, half soaked through. She gave them a shake in the air, the water flying off in little beads. “You alright? Nothing broken?”
Jordie took the robe, now completely dry. “I guess. Why was it like that? It was like—”
“Like there was no water for you to call on?” She said. “That was the point. Grisha power is not the creation of things, but the manipulation. If there is no water to manipulate, we can try all we want— and many of us have— but it will never work.”
“But… why make us do it, then? If no one can even actually do it anyways?”
Adrie’s dark eyes seemed to flicker to looking at something other than him; another, darker layer that he couldn’t see. “A precaution, I was told. I’m not sure what for.” Her gaze refocused. She forced a smile to blossom on her face. “Alright, we’ve got two years, and it’ll never be harder than that. Plenty of time to carve you into a proper Tide.” She patted his shoulder. Her robes brushed his side as she walked past him, back towards the tower. “Your first lesson is tomorrow. Stay hydrated, eh?” She chuckled lightly at herself as she left. Jordie watched her go, her robes flowing as if they were caught in an invisible current in an airy ocean. He turned back to the real ocean, frowning.
The waves crashing were a beautiful drum beat, a honeyed song his ears could get addicted to if he simply stood out there long enough. But something about the deep teal and white that he could nearly taste in his mouth, taste the salt souring his tongue and burning his throat. It was dark and mysterious. Sure, he could feel how deep it went. It was like a sixth sense, to intrinsically know where the seafloor dipped and dropped. But no one else could.
Kaz didn’t know.
Yet Jordie had left him out there, where the water was dark enough to swallow him whole in seconds. Because corpses floated— or so he’d heard— especially in the salty, polluted Ketterdam water. But Kaz wasn’t a corpse, he was a little boy, and a sick one at that. He could sink like a stone to the depths and rest there among the starfish and lost anchors. The city could tell stories of the pock-marked boy who walked in the weeds below their precious ships. The ghostly boy who could have been saved if it weren’t for his brother, who had bought their way onto that Reaper’s Barge and then left him there among the dead. The brother who promised to always help him, but had led them straight into the hands of the con man who took all they had left. The brother who had said he would always stay by him but had abandoned him for a life as a regal figure up in a tower.
But if Jordie had lived, Kaz could have, too. He had been less sick, and still clung to a bit of his childish energy like a dearly-loved blanket. He could have called for help out in the ocean and been collected by one of the silent men in black who paddled the boats through the dead. He could be on the streets right then, crying for Jordie and begging for food. He would grow up cursing his brother's name for the gullibility that doomed him to the streets.
It was wistful thinking, really, but Jordie could hardly see a world in which Kaz died on that barge. Surely he would have felt his brother by now if he had sunk under the surface. He may not have the best grasp of his abilities, but he had never been as close to anyone as he had Kaz. It was practically unthinkable that he wouldn’t feel him, alive or dead, if he were still there.
Perhaps, if Ghezen were up there, he had decided to write Jordie an adventure story like the ones he’d bought at the bookstore on Wijnstraat after he’d made the foolish deal with Hertzoon. Maybe he was fated to become a Tide and use his training to find Kaz and get revenge on Hertzoon. He would fight grand battles to rescue his brother against the gang thugs and cruel rich men and then take his time punishing Hertzoon. Perhaps he could drown him. Slowly. And then he and Kaz could take their money back and go watch Hertzoon’s body burn on a Reaper’s Barge and go back to the farm, away from the cruel city. He and Kaz could have all of the space they wanted, and Jordie could read more books than he could ever dream of and use his abilities as much as he wished. All he had to do was make it through two years in the obelisk towers overlooking the cruel waters. Two years and his own story with Kaz could begin.
Those two years went by faster than Jordie had expected them to. He’d learned the smallest details of water, how to seize the connection buried deep inside and use it as if a third arm, how to bend anything from a single drop to an entire ocean to his will without even blinking. It all felt natural, a simple extension of him that he’d always had yet never learned to use. Using his abilities left him feeling like he’d just run for hours, only without the exhaustion. Rejuvenation flowed through his veins, glowed through his skin. It was magical, almost even more so than the abilities themselves.
He knew he was good at Tidemaking— Adrie and Henrik had told him as much. Even so, his sleep was brief and fitful the night before his test. The thought of proving he belonged to Rian was a bit intimidating. After all, anything could happen. Perhaps he'd missed something in training. Even if he didn't, he could always trip and fall face-first into the ocean. Everyone would laugh, and he would be sent out. No one wanted a Tide who couldn't handle standing in a foot of water. If he lost his chance as a Tide, he had no hope of ever making something of himself. No Tidemakers made it in the city on their own, as far as he'd heard. He couldn’t fail. Not today.
The moment the world outside the window began to light with the hazy glow of morning, he climbed out of bed. He knew he wouldn’t get any more sleep, so he didn’t particularly see the point in trying. His test would be early, anyway.
In the kitchen, a few Tides were already bustling around. Arcs of water flew over his head, each stream carrying various things. He ducked as a ceramic coffee mug nearly hit his head. “Sorry about that!” Ervin said from the table. He reached out and grabbed the mug with one hand while the other evaporated the stream of water in one smooth movement. “Good luck today, by the way, Jordie. We’re all rooting for you.”
"Thanks." Jordie flashed him a grin and grabbed a waffle from a plate on the table. Still halfway through chewing, he asked, "What's it like, by the way?"
Ervin sighed. "I know Adrie told you we can't tell."
“Yeah, but—”
“Alright, listen. I can’t tell you much, but…” He beckoned Jordie closer and lowered his voice. “Keep in mind your strengths. Just do what you do best, and you’ll be alright.”
It felt almost as if he had no time at all to think over what the advice had meant before Adrie hounded him down for what would likely be some last-minute notes. She brought him to her room and began to pace as he leaned against the wall.
"Okay, we're almost there, alright? You're close. We're close. For this test, just— it's not hard. I can't tell you what it is exactly, but make sure you can do it. Keep in mind your skills, don't do things you can't do."
“Don’t worry, I already know to do that, it’s only what everyone’s telling me,” said Jordie with a grumble. He would be alright if anyone’s advice had any truth to it, as long as he could piece the cryptic words together. It was strange, really. It almost felt as if everything he needed was already there at the front of his mind, the tip of his tongue, the ends of his fingers.
Keep in mind your strengths. Do what you do best. Don’t do anything you can't do.
Of course.
It was so simple, he was almost embarrassed he had missed it. He was sure Rian had been watching throughout the past two years. If he wasn’t already ready, then she would have made that decision long ago. He could summon a puddle for all it mattered. Or, just perhaps, it could all be part of the test itself. If the test was so easy, perhaps that was the point. Maybe he was supposed to choose something more difficult, to show he wouldn’t take the easy way out.
He could ask to be tested the way he had on his very first day. Adrie had said no one had ever done it. If he could, he could show that any doubts Rian had, about him or Adrie, were pointless. He could make Adrie’s time spent training him worthwhile. He could do it, he knew he could. He was powerful enough now.
“I think I know what to do.”
Adrie gave him a long, curious look. He hoped she was just assessing how much he’d figured out or something of the sort. But slowly, the expression morphed into a different one with wider eyes and furrowed brows. “No. I already know you’re overthinking this, don’t be stupid.”
“I have to—”
“You don’t have to do anything, Jordie, especially anything as idiotic as whatever’s going through your water-logged head right now.”
“I have to prove myself. How can I expect to become a Tide if I can’t even stand out? If I’m going to do anything in this stupid city, I need to show that I can first.”
“Show who?” She cried, running a hand through her hair. “The test doesn’t matter, and this city doesn’t give a damn about any of us. What’s even out there for you to prove yourself to?”
He hesitated. There was the truth, the one that lurked in his brain and shoved the idea forwards. And there was the lie that he forced out any time the truth came too close. It was a lie he had believed ever since the Reaper’s Barge until the day he realized that he simply didn’t anymore. But by then, the lie had become too much of a comfort. It was like a little house created in his mind, but only he knew it was made out of cards instead of brick. It was a house built by childlike stubbornness, and the only resident was himself. If he stuck a foot out of the door, the whole house would blow down and only the truth would remain.
“My brother. He’s alive, I know it. I have to do the best I can, for him.”
Adrie’s expression faltered as the little card house steadied. “Jordie, that’s not how it works. If you do this, don’t think you can just head off to the city if you fail. Rian would—” She cut herself off sharply and let out a huff. “You can’t even know if he’s out there. And even if he is, have you ever heard about a failed Tide? They don’t make it in the city.”
She continued to speak, her voice soft, but bells were chiming in the distance. He glanced out the window at the crashing azure sea. “Nine bells, I have to go.”
She smiled, her eyes turning downwards with a strange sort of sadness. It was the kind that was deeper than sorrow, but one with a bit of loss and fear and soured pride. She placed her hand gently on his shoulder and pulled him in for a brief hug. “Good luck.”
As he trudged up the steps to the roof, it felt as if his mind were only tugging him away. It raced with thoughts of Kaz’s corpse and Adrie’s expression and shit, he couldn’t do this. What was he dooming himself to by taking such a risk? He could lose everything he had left.
Up on the roof, Rian was waiting for him expectantly. “Jordan,” she greeted. Even though they were in the still, open air, her voice seemed to carry on an invisible breeze. “The time has come, and the decision lies in your hands. What would you like to do to prove your skill?”
He didn’t know. His idea was suicide, he knew that much, but there wasn’t much else that he felt was fitting. He wanted to scream it out loud, that he didn’t know what to do with himself. Maybe it was a sign that he didn’t deserve his spot. She could kick him out and he could go find himself any rare place that would take him. End up an indenture to a mercher, live out a life of misery. What would it matter, anyways? Tears pricked at his eyes, and a fat raindrop plunked down on his nose.
Rian looked up at the sky. A small grey cloud that Jordie could have sworn he hadn’t seen before then was above their heads, casting down a spray of rain. She glanced back at Jordie. “Was this your doing, Jordan?” He quickly scrubbed a hand over his eyes and shrugged. “Very impressive. I know few Tidemakers who can do such a thing of their own volition.” She waved the cloud away with ease and started towards the stairs. "Come. It is time."
Notes:
Next chapter: Jordie grows suspicious, and ventures into Ketterdam
Chapter Text
Jordie took a deep breath. In, out. In a way, air was like water as it flowed from one space to another. Filling any sliver of emptiness it could. But air could only clear his head so much. Only water could quench it, rinse it all away. He inhaled once more, the salt stinging his nose. He was too far from the ocean to truly feel it the way he could on the beach, but he still sensed it enough to do his job.
Watching the ships go by was one of those things that he dreaded doing, just because it was nearly always just watching them go back and forth with nothing to do. It was only rare occasions that they would actually interfere with a ship, but Rian always wanted someone keeping watch just in case.
A Kerch navy ship was cutting out of the harbor, and a Kaelish trading ship was making its way in. Both were slow and clearly wouldn’t be causing any problems he would have to interfere in. He sighed, and began to amble a circle around the round roof of the tower. Down at the bottom of the tower he spotted a small clump of blue-robed figures, barely visible in the mist. Adrie and Henrik had disappeared that morning; perhaps that’s where they were.
A couple of minutes later, he heard the sound of someone else climbing up to the roof, then a familiar voice, laced with a smirk. “You look bored.” Adrie’s hair was windswept, her robes slightly twisted. A faint spray of water dotted her cheeks, despite the lack of mist this high up. The most peculiar thing about the sight was, however, the starry patterned mask that dangled from her fingers.
“Talla was supposed to be on duty with me, I don’t know where she is,” he said. Adrie opened her mouth, then closed it again, so he took the silence as an opportunity to make his own inquiries. "What's with the mask? I didn't know anything was going on today."
She bit her lip. "Oh, well… Rian decided to pay someone a visit. It wasn't too big, just a quick threat to flood Fifth Harbor."
Jordie frowned. He suspected the confrontation had something to do with the recent auction. They had all been watching it closely, largely out of fear of jurda parem. Parem was an unsettling thought to Jordie. Not necessarily because of its potency and addictiveness—although that was certainly terrifying in its own right—but because of its allure. A part of him wanted to stumble upon some, just to see how far he could push his powers. He would give more than he'd like to admit for the chance to be the most powerful person in the city, the country, the world, even if just for a few moments. Even so, he knew he would never even see the drug. The other Tides were terrified, and Rian had been acting as if she would flood whatever ship tried to bring the drug's secrets out of the city. Of course, all thoughts of parem had slipped their minds when they saw the impersonators. It was still unbelievable that anyone would even have the gall to impersonate a Tide. They were sacred, powerful. Even Jordie found it disrespectful. Rian would have likely immediately set her sights on finding and dealing with the impersonators, if not for the plague that hit that same night.
If Rian was afraid of one thing, it was disease.
Jordie had faint memories of Rian's apprehension towards him when he'd first joined all those years ago. Though his plague scars failed to fade, her caution eventually did. But when the sirens sounded after the auction, she shut everything down. And although Jordie would balk at the idea of admitting it, he had been grateful. He had a right to fear a plague if the red marks on his skin had anything to show for it. It had taken his hope, his life, his brother. After years of building himself a new family inside the obelisk tower, he refused to even entertain the notion that it could be taken from him again.
With Rian's shutdown, he couldn't imagine what Adrie had been doing. Perhaps she had been breaking the rule, because Rian would never give in and risk plague entering the towers.
"But get this," said Adrie, jarring him from his thoughts. "The plague was a fluke! It was never real, a Barrel boss faked it. He's becoming really powerful, I reckon it's only a matter of time before Rian does something about him. He fucking threatened us, said he would set his fake plague on our towers. If she'd been there, he would've been drowned right there."
"Who was it?" He didn't know of many Barrel bosses, only the most troublesome. Men like Pekka Rollins and Dirtyhands.
"Brekker. Honestly, is that a surprise?"
"I've never heard of a Brekker," he said, brow furrowing. As far as he knew, that was a kind of machinery he had seen in his brief time in Ketterdam, and on ships in passing.
"Ah, well, he’s not of much importance, just some idiot on a power trip, really. I need to go, though, I’ve dawdled too long." While her previous words had been casual, these were quick, tense. She darted towards the tower. Jordie easily got the feeling that she had said too much. But of what, he wondered. It was surely something he could not know, but why would she keep something from him? They were equals. Whatever it was must be something that impacted either him or her and not the other. Surely something he should not go stick his nose in if it wasn't freely given. But he was curious. Curious about her assignment, and about the strange man, Brekker. Things had been getting boring, anyways, between the monotony of watching ships pass and keeping the land bridge down. He might as well go figure it out.
By the time the sun had begun to sink towards the west, Jordie was setting off away from the tower. He had stolen clothes from Henrik, who occasionally made trips into the city himself. They were rather large, but still less conspicuous than the Tidemaker's robe he had donned overtop.
While the side of the tower that faced the sea had a small shore, the back dropped straight to the water. He was only a few dozen feet from the jagged rocks of the mainland, but tramping across the water would draw far too much attention. The attention of men at the Stadhall, or Rian in the tower. It was as if he had suddenly discovered a hole in the boat of his plan, and now it was taking on water far too fast. If it sunk, he would be stranded with only his goddamned curiosity to keep him company. How boring. He took a few steps out, hoping it would give him an idea. Testing the waters, one could say quite literally.
"Jordan."
There went his boat, sinking to the depths of the sea. Its one occupant was overboard, sinking into the sea to drown a long, dull death.
"Hello, Rian." Jordie turned around to see the woman. Per usual, her robe floated with a regal grace that Jordie could never manage. Her hands were crossed behind her back, making her look even more imposing.
"Where are you going?"
"I… I was curious about something…" he began sheepishly. He stretched his words to give himself more time to think. Rian raised a blonde brow. "My old family farm. Where I grew up. I've been curious as to what happened to it, whether such a special place stayed in the family."
It hadn't truly been a special place, at least not to Jordie. Only a painful one. While he had spent years with Kaz there, it carried too much grief that overpowered the thought of the small plot outside Lij. He had sold it to buy them passage to Ketterdam, in hopes it would take the memories with it. To his dismay, they lingered. The eerie quiet in the days following his mother's death. The blood-stained soil underneath the fleshy remains of his father. No part of him wanted to even think of the place, but it seemed to do its job either way— something in Rian's weathered face softened just slightly.
"I don't…" she began, her voice unusually gentle. "Alright. I'll go with you, to be safe."
For Ghezen's fucking sake. "Thank you."
"Of course." She waved a hand, and a thick mist rolled over the small expanse of water. She gestured for Jordie to go, and he began to make his way across the water. She followed, and Jordie soon found himself in the city of Ketterdam for the first time in eight years. They shrugged off their robes and set into the city.
The first thing he noticed was that the city was empty. Despite the daylight, the windows were shuttered and the doors closed tight. It was rather unsettling.
"He perfected the mark of a plague," Rian murmured as she gazed around at the abandoned streets.
"Is it true, then? That the plague isn't real?"
"It is a contained replica, only meant to be a foolish attempt at controlling a city," she said. Her voice was tight, and her fingers were working themselves through half-formed positions for summoning water. "Its orchestrator realizes its power, yet doesn't exercise it. He thinks he is above us."
As they made their way, something about the streets they found themselves on screamed of something familiar. It tugged at his mind for the memory and his muscles to pull him there. It wasn't until he saw the blue door that he recognized the street, and all of a sudden he was thirteen again, panic coursing through his veins and Kaz's hand clutched tight, staring at a house as empty as the street was now. He was sitting on those brick steps again in a new coat (he hadn't needed the coat, why had he bought it?), Kaz silently pressed into his side as the sky stained the copper of the missing coffee urns from the missing coffee shop. A strange emptiness panged in his stomach at the realization that he had made a mistake. But he didn't like the feeling eating at him like that, so he shoved it away. He told himself that perhaps they had simply gone out, repeated it until it rang true.
And suddenly he was back in the present. The blue door stared him down, daring him to knock. But the curtains weren't lace, and the knocker was more worn. It would do him no good. He would not find Mister Hertzoon in there. He would not find Kaz.
"Let's go," he attempted to say, although it came out as more of a choke. Rian didn't ask any questions, to his relief. She merely led him past the house in silence.
The building they soon found themselves in front of was a grand sight. It was tall and clearly meant for the wealthy, those who had far more than even what Jordie had once dreamt of. Rian pulled a brass key from around her neck and slipped it into the door. It creaked open, and she stepped aside for Jordie to enter.
"Welcome to the Stadhall," she said as the door fell shut. It was just as expensive on the inside, and equally as empty. Every sound they made echoed against the arched ceilings like ripples through a still lake. Light flooded in through the reaching windows towards the glimmering marble floors and staircases. He could almost imagine the sounds of merchers and clerks bustling up and down the halls, muttering to each other in their haughty accents. The bareness made it feel as if it were a relic of a former time.
She led him to an office to the side and they began to dig through for any records on the farm. Rian warned him that it may not be there, anyways, as it was outside of the city, unless someone in the city had purchased it.
They soon realized, however, that looking through the property holdings of each and every person in the city would be far too much work. Jordie was nearly ready to give up, considering it wasn't particularly something he wanted to do anyway, but decided to check one name before they left, just out of a fleeting burst of curiosity. And there he found it.
Under the name Johannus Rietveld.
It had been purchased years after Jordie and Kaz had fled. But who would purchase it under that name, Jordie's own middle and last? Unless it was some strange coincidence, there was only one person remaining who knew that old Jordie. But it couldn't be him.
"Little is impossible, Jordan," said Rian from over his shoulder. She took the paper gently. "Who is this?"
"Me," he murmured. "Or at least in name. That's my middle name."
"Perhaps a family member. That is all, I'm sure."
It was a fair point. Johannus was a family name. His grandfather's. He could have a cousin with the name who had heard of the farm's sale and wanted to keep it in the family. Besides, if it had been him, he had no reason to do it under another name.
"Come, Jordan," said Rian from the doorway. Jordie followed her down the steps and back into the main hall. Their feet still echoed, although Jordie could feel something off. An extra pair of footsteps bounced through the room. Rian paused with an arm stretched out in front of Jordie. “Who goes there?”
Jordie summoned a small ball of water into his hand as he turned to survey the room. A moment later, someone ducked out from behind a post. He was a teenager, really, although dressed in mercher black with a satchel slung across his shoulder. A hand was shoved into his pocket protectively as he surveyed them with wide yet hard eyes. “Who are you? How did you get in here?”
“That is between me and the Council.” Rian’s voice was firm, her presence regal. T his is how she holds her power, he noted.
“Well that’s good because I am a part of the Council,” the boy replied, drawing himself up a bit. “Well, I will be.”
Recognition sparked in Rian’s eyes. “You’re the Van Eck boy. The one from the auction.”
He gave a brief nod of his head, his gaze still flitting around behind ruddy gold curls. It finally settled on the water swirling in Jordie’s hand. He looked up at Rian, the same flicker of recognition sputtering to life on his face. “And you’re the Council of Tides.” He glanced back at Jordie and did a brief double-take. “And you— you look like someone I know…”
“How strange,” Rian murmured. He stared for a long moment, frowning at Jordie as if he were a puzzle. Jordie tried to not shift under the gaze of his strangely unsettling gaze.
“Well, I must be getting off.” He patted his satchel and flashed the two Tidemakers a brief smile. “Good day.”
“Good day, Mister Van Eck,” Rian called after him. The door fell shut with a heavy thud. The silence filled the room like phantoms of the businessmen who should have been there. Jordie’s mind worked through the odd encounter, relishing the brief silence.
“What happened at that auction?” He said finally, speaking softly as if to preserve the still quiet of the building. Rian didn’t turn, only straightened her long coat and took a step towards the door.
“We lost our only key to stopping parem to Ravka,” she said bitterly. “Come along, Jordan.”
Jordie hurried out the door after her, his mind beginning to wander again. How, exactly, did a Ravkan Grisha end up working for the Kerch when Ravka was said to be a safe haven for Grisha? Their king was said to be kind, and their teachings were the finest in the world. As a child, Jordie had had fleeting dreams of training in the Little Palace. He couldn’t imagine why someone would leave it behind for a city that ensnared their Grisha in cruel indentures.
As they made their way through the city once more, Jordie imagined what it was like in its normal state. He saw sharply dressed men and women with heads held high. He could imagine glancing across the canal and seeing the Barrel glowing like a vibrant junebug. The city was only a skeleton of what it could be. After all, he had been young and disillusioned and desperate when he had come as a child. But now, the city could be whatever he wanted it to be. It could be his. All it would take was quiet and secrecy. Nothing he couldn’t manage.
Back at the foot of the tower, Rian announced she had business to attend to and swept up the stairs. Jordie stayed in the sand down below. It was quiet, just like the city, but a different kind. Not eerie, but peaceful, punctuated by the gentle rush of waves and squawk of birds. He shrugged on his robe. It settled over him, a comforting weight on his shoulders. He sighed deeply. He thought of Brekker and Johannus Rietveld and a lively city he had been kept from for years. All mysteries he would discover in time if his budding plan panned out.
Notes:
Next chapter: Jordie returns to the city, desperate to find answers to his questions
Chapter Text
The two buildings Jordie stood sandwiched between hung over him like grand sails. Out on the street, a few well-dressed men passed by. Stragglers, most likely, coming home from long days at work. Others wore slightly more color and strange masks. A step out of the alley meant a step into the city, where anyone could see him. No one would recognize him unless he ran into the strange Van Eck boy from the Stadhall, so there was little to worry about. The Tides would never know.
He ran a hand over the scars crawling up his neck, over the indentations and hollows spattered across his skin. They ran up his cheeks, and trailed down his chest and back. He had never been ashamed of them, of course. The other Tides all knew what had happened to him. But now, with so many strangers, they were conspicuous. The plague still had to taunt him, it seemed. He pulled his collar high and set out onto the street.
He tried to pass through the wealthier district quickly. He felt too out of place, and he could feel it beginning to dredge up memories. He had too much to worry about, he couldn’t afford to think about Kaz ( who still lived, a voice in his head cried from the comfort of his little card castle of lies). He finally began to hear far-off sounds of laughter and revelry, and as he finally reached the canal separating the two starkly contrasted parts of the city, he was greeted by a place unlike anything he had ever seen.
The buildings were colorful and gaudy. Each gambling house or tavern or cafe seemed to be uniquely themed and decorated. Signs branded with strange names dangled by glowing chains above open doorways. Figures stalked the streets outside of each building, hawking trinkets and advertising deals. Each person around him was dressed brighter and flashier than the las,t as if playing a game to see who could find the most revolting pattern or eye-catching color. They jabbered loudly to each other, coins clinking in their pockets. The night was still early; Jordie suspected their money would be long gone by morning. It was a place rife with scams and petty cons that worked to squeeze every last kruge from its patrons. The scams were smaller than the one Jordie himself had fallen for those years ago, but they were run on so many people that Jordie suspected the owners of these parlors slept easy in beds made of kruge.
For a moment, his mind flickered to the brief time he and Kaz had spent here. When Kaz had watched a magician with wonder in his eyes until Jordie finally tore him away. In the days following, Jordie would come back to their room after searching for jobs to find him with a chair pulled up to the mirror, running a coin over his fingers. Back then, they had only seen the Barrel during the day, when the debauchery had gone to sleep with the moon. At night, in the wake of the weeks of quarantine, it was a different city. A strange one, no doubt, and likely dangerous, too, but fascinating all the same.
He started towards the nearest gambling hall, one made of shining wood planks. The wood was nearly impossible to see, however, underneath the shining gold adorning the front. It was scattered across the planks, hanging from the portico, dancing down the stoop. Its flash made it impossible to miss, but even so, a man stood outside, hollering about how it was the luckiest spot in the Barrel, where anyone could strike gold. Jordie glanced up at the sign. The Golden Bend.
The inside somehow managed to be gaudier than the exterior. The walls were littered with shimmering gold ornamentation. A grand golden chandelier hung from the center of the tall ceiling. The dealers wore shining golden coats as they dealt golden-backed cards or spun golden wheels.
Jordie wandered over to a table with a vacant seat, taking in the three figures already sitting there. Two men sat next to each other, laughing and taking swigs from golden glasses. A dark haired woman sat across from them, dressed in the golden vest of a dealer. She glanced up at him curiously. “Up to join? Two chips for a Kruge, and we take foreign currency up attaways.”
“I don’t have any money on me,” Jordie admitted. The dealer raised a questioning eyebrow, but one of the men shook his head.
“No, no,” he said loudly, “We need another person, we need three. How’s this, I’ll get you a few chips.” He withdrew a few purple bills from the pocket of his green, liquor-stained coat and slid them onto the table. The woman took them wordlessly and slid six golden chips over towards the empty seat. Jordie sat down stiffly. He had played games of Three Man Bramble for fun before, but he had never gambled. It was strange to think that he was responsible for some drunken stranger’s money.
They began the game. Jordie had always been rather average at it, good at losing a hand and then winning the next. He sat quietly, waiting for a moment to bring up Brekker, but the other two men had different ideas of conversation topics.
“From the south, eh?” The second man asked. He had a bit of an accent himself, although not as strong as Jordie’s.
“Near Lij.” Jordie had to practically shout to be heard over the racket of the hall.
“I’m from Drokke. Not too far, I don’t think.” Jordie nodded slowly as the man in green cursed over losing chips.
“Fucking hate this game,” the man grumbled.
“New bets?” The dealer called. Despite the man’s outrage, he shoved a handful of chips forwards. Jordie pushed out only a single chip.
As the other men’s chips began to dwindle, they refilled their drinks and handed over more money in exchange for extra chips. They got louder and more drunk. Jordie wanted to spray them both in the face with a well-aimed bit of water, but that would be too obvious. Although if the dealer weren’t there watching him like a hawk, the men were perhaps drunk enough that he could have gotten away with it.
"What brings you here anyways, Lij?" The green-clad man asked. Jordie hesitated. It was the perfect moment to bring up Brekker. He could feel the dealer's eyes on him.
"I'm looking for someone. A man named Brekker."
The two men gawked at him as if he were an absolutely ludicrous person to be searching for. Even the dealer furrowed her brows. The southern man took a long swig of whiskey. A bit dribbled onto the table. “Fucking idiot, are you? He’s dangerous. Finds you, not the other way ‘round.”
The first man bobbed his head. “Snap you in half like a…a goddamn breadstick.” He mimed it for good measure.
“Well, who is he?”
“Owns half of everything in the city, I think. Took down that bastard Rollins—”
“—always hated him,” the man’s companion interrupted. “Slimy bastard—”
“—already said that. But they don’t call him Dirtyhands for nothing,” the man slurred. He tipped his glass towards Jordie, as if in mutual agreement. Jordie himself hardly noticed, however. His mind was already wandering away again.
So Brekker was Dirtyhands, the supposed bastard of the Barrel, he mused. Brekker had taken down Rollins and a councilman. His threats to the Tides didn't seem like they should be ignored, yet he hadn't heard anything about Rian taking action. Would they let the threat stew, let him build his empire here? That was foolish.
"Damn, this hand is shit," said the man as he watched the dealer slide his chips away. He was only down to a few now, same as his companion. Jordie had scrounged up more than the ones he started with, but it still wasn't much. He really had no need to keep playing now that he had his information, but it would be nice to win a few kruge. He hadn’t had money since he put it all into the sham stock market eight years before.
“Bets?” said the dealer. The man in green muttered something and pushed the rest of his chips in. The other man followed suit. Jordie met their foggy gazes and slowly slid his meager pile of chips in as well.
She dealt them each a card. Jordie took the card—a king—and tucked it into his hand. He had been having oddly good luck the last few hands. The second man sighed and threw down his cards face up on the table. “I’m caught.”
The other man put his down as well. “Two,” he said with a smirk as he watched Jordie. Trying to avoid the man’s eyes, he put his own cards down. The man frowned at them for a moment, likely attempting to process them through his inebriated head, before scowling. “All luck, Lij.”
“Good game,” the other man yawned as he got to his feet. The pair stumbled off, mumbling about their lost money and where to head next. Jordie tapped his fingers on the table uncomfortably. The dealer was watching him intently again.
“Are you cashing in or just enjoying the view?”
“What’s the view?”
“I don’t know. Your thoughts? The table? The parlor? Me?” He frowned at the last suggestion. She was pretty, he supposed. Her tight curls framed her face rather nicely. He had just never been good at figuring out things like that.
“I, uh. I’ll cash in,” he said finally. She took his chips and began to count them, her deep eyes darting around the parlor before she leaned in a bit closer to him.
“What in Ghezen’s name were you thinking? I know you’re not from around here, but mentioning his name around here like that, it’s practically begging to get beat up in the alley outside,” she hissed. Jordie blinked at her, about to question it, but she huffed and kept going. “This is a Liddies parlor, in Liddies territory. Brekker’s a Dreg, with an irritating habit of screwing all of us other gangs over and then tricking everyone into thinking he’s helped us by doing it.”
"So where should I go, if I want to find him?"
"It's a stupid idea, finding him, but if you really do want to," she said, her gaze flicking around again and her voice lowering to barely a whisper, "The Dregs operate out of the Crow Club. I’d start there" She held out a handful of purple kruge. "Just saying, I wouldn't be surprised if I see your body on the Reaper’s Barge by tomorrow night." A shiver went through Jordie at the mention of the boat, but he pushed it away.
"I think I can handle my own," he said, forcing a smirk onto his lips as he pocketed the bills. The dealer just watched him with her plain gaze. He nodded to her and made his way out onto the busy street.
The first thing he noticed was the difference in the people. After only an hour or so, their purses seemed emptier and their words ran together a bit as everyone found parlors to spend their money and drink. As the sky aged like a strange black wine and stars winked into focus above, they were progressively deteriorating into the folks treasured most by the gambling parlors and brothels. Gullible marks. Better a drunken mercher with too much money to spend than a pair of poor little boys from the countryside.
It took Jordie a bit longer than he’d have liked to find the Crow Club. After a few dead ends and turnarounds, however, he finally found himself in front of the building. It was black and blood red, a beady-eyed crow staring down the patrons as they walked through the door. The door was manned by a broad-shouldered boy with shaggy brown hair that hung in his eyes. For a moment, Jordie thought he saw the boy’s eyes meet his.
He watched the patrons as they came in and out in bright splashes of color. If he went in, he wouldn't find Brekker. He wouldn't be out and about in the club, he would be off in some office. Had he risked so much for so little only to find himself unable to keep going? No. He couldn't have. He would find a way.
His mind wandered back to something Adrie had told him, only days after he had first woken up in the tower when he asked her how she had found him. You sent out ripples through the water. That's the best way to get someone's attention, casting ripples. Most people can't resist searching for their cause.
Cast out ripples that Brekker couldn't ignore. And Brekker could come to him. It wasn't perfect, but it could work. He could learn who Brekker was, and why he was being kept a secret by the others.
Jordie shouldered his way through the crowd into the club. A game in the man’s own club was the perfect place to start a rumor, he figured. There would be people around who knew him, who could tell him. He would have his attention in no time.
He sidled up to one of the Three Man’s Bramble tables and slipped into one of the empty seats. The only other one at the table, the dealer—a stocky boy dressed in the blood red and inky black of the club—seemed to be sizing him up. Jordie withdrew a handful of kruge from the inside of his coat and pressed them onto the crow-patterned tablecloth.
The dealer’s sharp gaze was unsettling. Even as he turned away to examine the black lacquer walls and gaudy patrons of the club, he could feel his eyes on him. “I’ll be back,” Jordie murmured. He did his best to not leap out of his seat and walked to the glossy black bar. He took his sweet time getting himself a strange red drink made from cherries. It matched the dealer’s vest. Back at the table, two other players had joined. Jordie lifted his glass in greeting before taking a sip. It tasted strange, and rather strong, but was enjoyable in an odd way. He placed the glass down on the table and picked up a few of his chips in its stead.
“Deal me in.”
Jordie tipped the cup back, finishing off the small glass. It was strong enough to make his head churn after two. He studied the chips sitting in front of him and pushed a few out. “I’m looking for Brekker,” he said firmly. The other players either didn’t hear or didn't care about his comment, but the dealer looked up sharply. He quickly tried to turn away, but Jordie had caught him.
He smirked as he won the hand.
Only a few hands later, the dealer stepped away from the table. He dusted off his stubby hands and set off through the crowded parlor. A lanky man took the spot at Jordie’s table, but Jordie had already stood. “I’m cashing out.”
As the new dealer counted out his chips, Jordie surveyed the room. He glimpsed a wide assortment of figures in the red and black of the Crow Club, but none were the other dealer. He had disappeared. If Jordie’s plan had worked, he had simply gone to report Jordie’s words to his boss. He imagined the short little dealer standing in front of a shadowy figure, Dirtyhands’ infamous crow’s head cane glinting silver. He pictured a white, glowing smile, more menacing than cordial. Did he really want to find this man?
“Here you are, sir.” Jordie took the slightly thicker stack of bills and tucked it back into his inside pocket. It was an unfamiliar comfort, having the money there. He had hardly touched a single kruge for years. He wanted to keep it close, now that he finally had some. He wouldn't squander it, not after he'd foolishly trusted Hertzoon with his money before.
Out in front, the crowd was still going strong. A man shouted about discounts exclusive to the Crow Club. Another held out small cups of lager with promises of more inside. And yet another, a young teenager, performed simple sleight of hand, making coins disappear between his fingers and single cards split into entire decks. For the second time that night, he was brought back to Kaz, practicing tricks in the mirror. In fact, Jordie could swear he had seen Kaz do that exact trick with a pen once.
He stumbled into the mouth of the alley next to the elegant club for a moment of reprieve from the masses. He leaned against the wall. What was he doing, anyways? He wasn’t meant for the city. There was a reason he wasn’t allowed to leave. And why had he come, anyways? What good did finding this Brekker do him? One voice in his head muttered the answer, but the one in its safe little card castle just shrugged. He sighed deeply.
And then there was a faint rapping.
Jordie whirled around, facing the alley. He had already instinctively pulled into position to summon water, but he hastily readjusted. Whoever was there didn’t need to see just what he could do yet, just in case it was a threat and not a fluke. His tidemaking ability was as much a giveaway as the scars winding up his back and neck and cheeks.
It came again.
His feet scraped the stone alley as he inched further closer. He was regretting not bringing a weapon, or at least searching for one, before he came.
A sound on the other end this time, like a boot smacking the ground hard.
He whirled around, eyes frantically scanning the space, but then he was yanked backwards like a fish caught on a fishing line. The assailant shoved him up against the wall. It was too dark to see well, but he could still catch flickers of a person in the low light. A dark eye, dark clothes, dark hair. Only the knife at his throat glistened in the dim moonlight. And then the faint gleam of teeth. A smile, glowing through the dark.
“I hear you were looking for me.”
Notes:
Next chapter: Kaz does some investigating
Chapter 5: Kaz
Notes:
This chapter's a bit shorter than usual, but it's time for Kaz's pov!!
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
It was weeks after the false plague, and the Barrel was more alive than ever. His Barrel. Because Pekka's businesses had mysteriously shut down a few weeks before, and the Crow Club was booming while construction started on his new acquisitions, and he was still in the golden period where the entire city was too afraid of him to challenge him. It wouldn’t be long before they forgot the events at the auction, of course. Before they came for him and his little empire. But not yet.
He was making his way back from the small building he had purchased in the Lid, having just confirmed construction. It would be grand and entrancing. The perfect little bird trap for the higher class pigeons. He had left his cane back in his office at the Slat, largely for its conspicuity, and donned a red coat in exchange of his regular black one. A man with a crow’s head cane and cut black coat was talked about. A man with a limp and bright clothes was a nobody.
The Emerald Palace was dark. Xs were painted on the windows, relics of the plague scare. People skirted around the shuttered doorway, whispering. It was the birthplace of the plague, they said. And in Ketterdam, nothing was more terrifying than disease. But they thought it had shut down Pekka’s business, sent him away and kept him away. Kaz suspected that last part had something more to do with the newest queen of the seas.
“—and, and Lij, he’s probably lost that money by morning—”
A muscle in Kaz’s jaw twitched faintly at the mention of the small village. His gaze found the two men, slumped against the wall of a parlor that glimmered gold. Liddies territory, most likely. They had a strange affinity for gold-themed establishments. Kaz followed the crowd, slowly inching his way closer to the men.
“—and searching for Dirtyhands, he won’t see the sun again,” groaned one of the men, his words running together. “Should never have blown money on him.”
“Ought’ve waited for another, paying player,” the other man chided in a thick southern accent. Kaz was close enough now to see their pinkened eyes and berry-red faces.
He hadn’t thought he’d ever hear the name Lij again, much less in the same breath as his own. He had shed that town long ago. It had died with him.
He silently withdrew a pair of knives from the inside of his coat and made his way towards the men. He only had to press one to each man’s throat and guide them to the darkened alley. Under the loud chatter from the street, he could hear their soft whimpers and muttered prayers to Ghezen. Drunk men were as easy to catch off guard as they were to swindle in a gambling hall.
"Dirtyhands!” One of the men hissed as he craned his head to look at Kaz. His companion stilled. “We didn’t—”
“Shut it!” Hissed the other man.
“Who is this man from Lij you mentioned?” Asked Kaz, keeping his voice low and scraping.
“Dunno his name, I swear!” The first man began. His voice quivered as he spoke. “He’s young ‘n got dark hair and was in blue, and, uh…”
“His cheeks were flushed all weird.”
“Ooh, yeah! Like the ones you saw after the plague went away, who still had the scars. He had plague scars all on his cheeks! Strange fellow, really, didn’t even drink…and he was askin’ about Dir—you!” A plague survivor with a connection to Lij. Either someone was playing a very unfunny prank on Kaz, or something strange was going on. Whichever it was, he would find out who this man happened to be.
“Where did he go?”
“I dunno, we left before he did…” The first man said nervously.
“Are you sure?” Kaz asked. The man nodded, the knife catching a bit on his skin. No matter. He wouldn’t get much else out of the man anyways, and the inebriated were prone to talking about things they shouldn’t. He drew the blade across the man’s throat. A clean line of red blossomed like a line drawn across his neck in red ink, but only for a moment. It poured down in a bloody waterfall, turning his green coat brown. The other man let out a strangled retch and pressed a hand to his mouth.
“Was he telling the truth?” Kaz growled. The man nodded frantically. His eyes glistened with tears. For a brief moment, Kaz considered letting the man live, if only to spread word of what Kaz had done. But it was too big a gamble, when he could just as easily tell of what Kaz had asked about, or come back and get revenge one day. He grit his teeth and swiped the other knife across the man’s throat.
After a quick stop by the Slat to retrieve his cane and change his blood-stained coat, he made his way to the Crow Club. The front was crowded with loud tourists and gamblers, so Kaz slipped in through the back. The inside of the club was more busy than ever, thanks to its resurgence after the plague. Pekka’s sudden closures had benefitted all of the parlors in the Barrel, but Kaz had made sure that his own benefitted most of all.
The doors to the private parlors were shut, and so was the one to a little pet project of his own he had started construction on only days before. Jesper had poked fun at it, and Wylan had lamented how it would just lead to him asking them to do him favors, but Kaz was going to do it anyway.
On the opposite side of the expansive hall was what he knew to be the other building he had purchased to expand the club. It was being redone to match the rest of the club, and would become extra private space and tables. Soon, the Crow Club would be a testament to his own power over the Barrel—the crown jewel in his sprawling empire.
“Kaz! Kaz!”
He looked up sharply, adjusting his grip on his cane. A figure in a blood-red vest was beelining towards him through the crowd. He released his grip a bit at the sight. Keeg stopped a few feet from him. “I caught something you’ll want to hear, boss.”
“What is it?”
“Man here’s looking for you. Don’t know what for.”
Kaz tensed again. So the man really was wanting to find him, and was much better at it than he would have expected. Either that, or he had gotten help, in which case Kaz had someone to pay a visit to. “What did he look like?”
“Dark hair, blue coat, strange scars on his neck. Was drinking a lot of the cherry whiskey.”
So it was him. And he was still here, at the club. “Show me.”
Keeg glanced around before pointing across the room. “Tommas’s table, over there. He’s standing, looks to be cashing out.” He followed his gesture to the man across the room. He was lean and held himself almost arrogantly, as if he owned the place. He took his winnings from Tommas and tucked them into his oversized coat. A hand patted the spot protectively. He was a fool, it seemed. One who seemed to think he could find Kaz on his own terms. To kill him, perhaps, if not attempt worse. Foolish men always held the wildest aspirations.
The man began to make his way towards the exit. Kaz gave a slight nod towards Keeg and started towards the door in the back. He slipped into the alley. The shadows enveloped him quickly, like an old friend. He stood still for a few moments, watching and listening. The man hadn’t passed by yet. But just as Kaz began to leave the dark corridor, someone staggered into the mouth of the alley. They pressed their back against the black wall of the Crow Club and let out a heavy breath. It took a moment, but Kaz could faintly catch the blue coat and slim build. He almost wanted to laugh. The man was a pigeon who’d accidentally happened across the city’s biggest bird trap.
Kaz began to inch closer. His cane hovered in the air until he found another large shadow to settle in, when he gave it a hefty tap against the ground. The man turned sharply. He seemed to momentarily shift into an odd defensive stance before relaxing himself.
Kaz tapped his cane on the ground again. The man took a step closer himself this time. He was only a handful of feet away now, almost close enough to see Kaz. As he went to take another step, there was a strange sound from the street. From the looks of it, a middle aged man had tripped over his own feet and stumbled. Kaz seized the opportunity and lurched forwards to grab the man. He pulled him back by his coat to the depths of the alleyway and shoved him up against the wall. His knife pressed up to the man’s neck, Kaz hissed, “I hear you were looking for me.”
The man, still startled from the sudden movement, blinked. But then the words registered. He looked down at the blade at his neck, and then up at Kaz. “So you’re him, huh? You look barely eighteen.” Kaz suppressed a scowl. His mouth must have still twitched, however, as the man’s lips quirked up ever so slightly. “You just don’t seem very threatening.”
“Who are you?”
“Does it matter?”
“Don’t make me repeat myself,” Kaz growled. He trailed the knife a bit lower, pressing the point against the man’s chest. It came to rest against the money pocketed in his upper coat.
“Is it true you were responsible for the plague?” The man fired back. Despite his apparent carelessness before, he didn’t seem so careless now. How did he know about the plague? No one knew about that except for the Crows. Either someone had slipped, or it was just an oddly lucky guess. And luck was not something Kaz ever bet on.
“Why were you looking for me?”
“Maybe it’s personal, who knows,” said the man with a tilt of his head. Something about his voice was familiar. Probably the accent—even though it was faint, it was certainly from Lij.
The man sighed. "You know, I'd imagined this conversation to be a bit more civil." He cast a pointed look at the knife. "Fewer weapons. I was under the impression you were a fair criminal, Mister Brekker. What a strange name, anyways. That's a type of ship equipment, isn't it?"
"Kaz Brekker has always been my name." And that wasn't a lie, not really. Because he was the Kaz who was born as he rose out of the harbor, leaving his brother's corpse and old life behind.
The man's eyes had gone wide. A disbelieving grin broke across his face. "Oh, fuck." He was staring at Kaz strangely, as if seeing him again for the first time. "Listen, this has been a good chat and all, but I've ought to be going."
Kaz pressed the knife a bit deeper. It dug through the kruge with a faint ripping sound, and the man’s shoulders stiffened. "You're not going anywhere.”
“It’s very important, and I’d rather not hurt anyone I don’t have to.”
“You see, that’s not a qualm of mine. I killed those two men you played cards with at the Golden Bend. They told me everything they knew about you, but they were a liability. I couldn’t let them go after that. I slit both of their throats.” In the low light, Kaz could see the man’s face go white. “I hear Lij is nice this time of year, wouldn’t you agree?”
“Oh, I feel like this is one you can answer yourself, Kaz.” The man smirked, as if he knew something Kaz didn't. “Now, I really must be going. I apologize for this.”
And then a wave of water slammed into Kaz from behind.
Kaz came to slowly. At first all he saw was the wall, his mind still trying to register exactly what had happened. But then it came in a wave of recollection, washing over him. The strange man, who seemed to know much more about Kaz than he should. And the wave meant he was a Tidemaker. There was only one place to find Tidemakers in Ketterdam, and it just so happened to be the home of a group that knew just a bit too much.
He climbed to his feet. A glance around the alley revealed no sight of the man, however. The only sign he had ever been there was the puddle at Kaz’s feet and his sopping coat and hair. He had likely retreated back to his obelisk tower, and Kaz would never see him again. But if he did, he wasn’t planning on missing him.
He stalked back into the Crow Club, searching for Keeg. The Dreg was hidden in a corner, drinking straight from a bottle. He straightened at the sight of Kaz and shoved the bottle away. “Boss! You’re—”
“Wet?” Kaz supplied drily. Keeg nodded. “Insightful. If you ever see that man again, find me.”
"Course. But why are you wet…?"
"He's a Tidemaker." Keeg raised his eyebrows and opened his mouth as if to ask another question, but Kaz was already leaving.
Back in his office at the Slat, he began to search through the desk drawers. If the Tides were going to take things a step further, then he would as well, their threats be damned. The only thing he wondered was why they had sent someone so obvious. The man could have just been inexperienced, but Kaz knew the Tides were cautious and calculated to a fault. It was more likely that they wanted him to notice.
At last, he found what he was searching for. It was a small folder, containing all of the information he had on every Grisha in the city. Most were indentures, Grisha owned by merchers forced to serve them. A handful were gang members and thugs, keeping their power secret in exchange for freedom. By keeping tabs on them, he could see what assets certain merchers had and who could possibly become an ally of his own. He knew the names of nearly every Corpalki, Fabrikator, Squaller, and Inferni in the city. Every kind except for Tidemakers.
The last page was all he had on them. It was filled with scrawled notes and question marks, speculations on identity and recruitment and how they ensured loyalty. There were a few crossed out names of people he had thought to be Tides who weren't in the corner. He had only known of one Tidemaker to live in the city without being roped into the Council of Tides, and he had ended up in the clutches of Jan Van Eck, which was by far a worse fate. Whether the man was a member of the Council of Tides or not—the latter of which seemed rather unlikely, considering the Council's determination to snap up every Tidemaker that set foot in the city with their watery claws—he was someone to add to the page. A plague victim who knew too much. Someone to keep an eye on, certainly.
And if the Council of Tides saw it fit to send someone after him in disguise, that made it his turn to fire back. If they kept to their towers and waters and let him be in his Barrel, he could tolerate them and their overreaching. But if they wanted to encroach on his space, then he would have the same happen to them. The thing they feared most was their own identities, and perhaps it was time for Kaz to force it out of them.
Notes:
Next chapter: Jordie freaks out
Chapter 6: Jordie
Notes:
Funny story about this chapter: I actually started this fic like two years ago, and this was the last chapter I wrote before taking a break. When I came back to this fic a few months ago I went straight into the next chapter, so I got the fun discovery this week (last night) when going to edit this chapter that I just hadn't finished it? So uh this ones a bit shorter too because of that but hey I actually finished it this time
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
Fuck.
As Jordie pushed his way through the Barrel crowds, his mind spun. Kaz was alive. Fuck, fuck, fuck.
Had the other Tides known he was alive? Were they aware he was Dirtyhands? Why had they kept it from him?
Looking back, it was obvious. He should have recognized those eyes, that face. But it had been eight years, and it was dark, and he had changed so much. The Kaz Jordie knew would have never smiled like that, or threatened anyone. He wouldn't have gloated about slitting the throats of innocent men. A wave of nausea washed over him, and he braced himself against the wall of a nearby building.
What the hell was he doing? What the hell had he done? He was risking his livelihood, his home, for a city that had done nothing but hurt him, and was now only determined to hurt him even more. Jordie had never been the most pious of people, but now it was hard to believe that there wasn't something up there. Ghezen or the Saints had to be playing some nasty prank on him, because he didn’t know how this could ever be true otherwise. If there wasn't someone orchestrating the world around him, there was no way that Kaz, sweet little Kaz, would turn out to be that horrid man.
Standing in the ruins of his little card house in his mind, he wanted so desperately to build a new one. He wanted to tell himself it wasn't really his Kaz, just another boy with another past. But he knew it was his brother. The more he replayed the strange confrontation, the more sure of it he became. It was him, there was no denying it.
He grabbed his blue robe from where he’d stashed it behind a building and shrugged it on. A wave of his hand summoned a cloud of mist as he looked out on the water, but it came sharper than normal. He wanted to do more than just mist. He wanted to summon a tidal wave, or a storm. His entire body itched for it.
Back in the tower, he stumbled up to his room and slammed the door shut. He collapsed onto his bed with a heavy sigh, arms splayed out. What was he to do? He couldn’t stay shut up in the tower for the rest of his life now that he knew his brother was out there. Whether Kaz wanted him or not, Jordie couldn’t live without at least a chance to see him again. But if he began to sneak off to the city regularly, he was risking his position as a Tide. If he was caught, he would surely not only lose his standing but his life, too. Nothing worked, and either way he wouldn’t be happy. If Ghezen was testing him, it was a very stupid test. Now he just hated the old man.
Perhaps discovering Kaz was a sign. Maybe his brother needed him to protect him, if only to make up for the mistakes he had made as a child. But would Kaz still need Jordie? Jordie had lost their money, so Kaz made some himself. Jordie had let them fall ill, so Kaz had fought through it and thrived in the Barrel. Jordie had changed, sure, but so had Kaz. He wasn't sure if they needed each other anymore, or if they even knew each other. But they were together again, for better or worse, and Jordie wasn't sure if he could walk away now.
If he returned to the city, he would have freedom, and a chance to reclaim the past that he had lost. It wasn’t what he had wanted for the past eight years, but it was certainly tempting. He could be more than just Jordie, one of the youngest Tides, stuck in place with no way to move up or out. With an ally out of Kaz, he could make himself known and live his childhood dreams. Was that not a chance he wanted to take?
He unsteadily climbed back onto his feet, his vision swimming a bit. It seemed as if the alcohol was finally powering through the adrenaline. He pulled off his stolen clothing and stuffed it under his bed. Whatever he decided, they would be there. Just in case.
It had been weeks, and Jordie had yet to make a decision. It swirled over his head like dark clouds, each drop that threatened to fall a reminder of what he had to lose. His comfort, his brother, his power, his freedom, his life. Only there was nowhere to shelter, so he had to listen to the thoughts echo like thunder through his head at all times. Over and over, an unwavering drum.
He went about his routine as normal. He watched ships and steadied the sea and kept the land bridge up, trying to keep his gaze from straying to the city nestled in the fog beside him. But it kept reaching for him, tugging at the edges of his focus.
He stood at the top of the main tower alone. The sun hung high in the sky, making the day just a bit too warm for his liking. He scanned the waters of the harbor, taking note of each ship passing through. Shu, Fjerdan, Ravkan, Zemeni. A Kerch Navy ship, a sleek private vessel. Only more of the same. Watchtower duty was always boring. It always made him long for a chance at something else. He wanted freedom, but it was a reckless thought, one that could cost him his security and his way of life.
He stayed up there until the sun began to near the horizon, and someone else came to take his place. Instead of returning to his room like usual, Jordie descended further down the tower towards the kitchens in search of a snack. As he passed Rian’s level, however, he heard the faint sound of voices emanating from behind the cracked door of her office.
“—twenty-five years, I dare not take such measures for something I can take care of quietly,” said Rian sternly.
“I see your point,” said another voice. It was deep and unfamiliar and had a faint lilt to it that reminded Jordie of the young Van Eck he had met in the Stadhall. “I was just thinking that it would be more, say, beneficial for you to prove your strength to him. I know you do not want to risk being forced to register. The Council, they—”
“My council is more powerful than yours, Anton, we both know that. I do not answer to them, and never will. Do not act as if that is not true.”
“Of course, of course. And I don’t mean to offend. I just wish for what will end well for both you and the city.”
“I would like to believe in your loyalty. You may be deserving of my trust, but the world you mingle in is not.” There was the faint sound of moving water, and then the creak of the door. It opened slightly, and Jordie hurried down a few more steps to hide himself. “I will afford you the benefit of the doubt, and grant you my trust for now. Though you’d best only return when you hear more of Brekker’s incessant poking around.”
“I will keep an ear out for it. And perhaps you will heed my advice.”
“I care too much for my life to do so,” said Rian, her voice tight. He heard the door shut with a gentle thud, and bolted down to the next floor and ducked behind an overwatered fern in a pot that someone had tried to grow recently. Barely moments later, there were footsteps on the stairs and a figure came into view. He was young, barely a few years older than Jordie, with shining hair and a neatly trimmed beard. He wasn’t particularly tall, but held himself like it as he descended the steps. Jordie watched him go before lifting himself to his feet.
It seemed that Kaz, ever the fool that he had seemingly become, was getting into trouble to draw Rian’s attention. Jordie sighed, because of course he was. If only Jordie hadn’t used his powers, then Kaz wouldn’t have realized he was a Tide. And now he was stirring up trouble, and things would only be worse for Jordie if he was ever caught for what he himself had done.
“Are you alright?”
Jordie looked up at Henrik, blinking a few times before registering what he’d said. “Oh, yes. Just a headache.” He glanced at the starry mask dangling at the man’s side. “Where are you going?”
“To threaten someone or something of the sort. Rian’s being a bit secretive about this one.”
Kaz. If only he could see him again, get out of the tower, maybe he could finally quench this thirst for freedom. "Do you think I could come? I've never been, and—"
Henrik shook his head sadly. "It's not my decision, Jordie. You'd have to ask Rian." Jordie hummed in disappointment and watched Henrik disappear down the steps.
His mind wandered back to the strange man, Anton. The man was a part of the city’s Council, it seemed, yet worked with Rian. He wondered how long she’d had an inside man. It was almost comical in its irony, considering Rian’s staunch refusal to allow them any contact with the world. He wouldn’t have pegged her as a hypocrite.
He climbed the stairs back to the floor above. As he reached the last step, he almost ran straight into Rian. She nodded to him and began to step around him, but he cleared his throat to stop her. “Rian, I was wondering if I, well, if I could come on whatever you’re going to do.”
“It’s not well suited for you, Jordan. You got to see the city a few weeks ago, that was a unique opportunity in itself. It’s best if you stay here this time.”
He wanted to argue, but he knew it wouldn’t work. He sighed and nodded, and she continued down. He stood on the steps for a moment, but then something caught his attention. The door to Rian’s office stood only a few feet away.
Open.
It was stupid. He had no good reason to do it. But if she wouldn’t let him see what was going on in the city, he would have to find it in the tower, and there was only one place where anything helpful would be. It was inviting him, really, with streams of light painted on the floor through the crack and the rustling of the waves from beyond her window. The open door was practically a flashing sign drawing him in. And he couldn’t just ignore it.
With carefully placed steps, he made his way over. He eased the door open wide enough for him to slip through, yet paused in the doorway. This was dangerous, he knew that. Rian would not take kindly to it if she found out he went into her office. He glanced over his shoulder at the entryway, his eyes skimming the empty stairs and barren walls. No one was there, no one would see. He stepped through the doorway.
The room was orderly, which was unsurprising considering both its usual occupant and its frequent disuse. Jordie rarely saw Rian actually use the space for more than just a place to keep things. The desk was bare except for a few random trinkets and little things that he vaguely recognized from the few times he’d been in here. Against one wall was a bookshelf, largely filled with what looked like copies of port logs for the city. He wondered briefly why she even kept those records, and just how far back they went.
Moving towards the desk with quick, light steps, he pulled the top drawer open. Inside was a handful of fountain pens and blank paper. He closed it and opened the next one beneath it. The only thing inside was a small pouch, shoved against the back of the drawer.
He reached in and pulled it out. Whatever was inside moved like sand. He opened the bag, revealing a dull orange powder. Jurda? He thought lamely, even though he’d never seen jurda ground into a powder like this. There was only one thing this could be, and he knew it. His hand shook as he pulled the drawstring shut, and his mind wandered back to the conversation he’d overheard. Rian was keeping many more secrets than just the truth about Kaz. He wondered what else she’d lied about.
He would have to decide what to do still, and now with this in play he wasn’t sure if it made his decision easier or more difficult. Part of him wanted to run now, and get out of whatever this was before he got too deep and was found out. But he of all people knew the dangers of diving head-first. Just a small step couldn’t hurt, though; it would be simple to just take it. He wouldn’t use it, of course. He knew exactly what that risk meant. But he couldn’t let anyone else use it, either. Jordie lingered for another moment before carefully tucking the pouch into his robes.
He shut the drawer as carefully as he could and crept over towards the bookshelf, sparing another glance towards the door to check for anyone coming. When he saw no one, he turned his focus to the books. The shelf furthest to the right, he quickly found, was the only one not dedicated to the port journals. Many of the titles here were in Ravkan, and the few in Kerch appeared to be history books. None of them caught his attention as having anything interesting for him to look at.
Now that he was actually in here, it didn’t make much sense for there to be anything about Kaz, and it seemed that Rian had either gotten rid of any correspondences she’d had with the Merchant Council or that man Anton or simply did not interact with them other than face-to-face. The latter made the most sense; it wasn’t as if the Council of Tides towers had a mailbox at the door. The best he could find in here was currently a noticeable weight in his pocket.
He carefully slipped out of the room and moved the door back to just how it was open before, not letting out his bated breath until he was down the stairs and stepping onto his floor. His hand brushed against the rough fabric of the pouch, and he sighed at the feeling of the powdered substance mushing in the bag between his pinched fingers. Some paranoid part of him was worried it would disappear. He had to keep an eye on it, keep it on himself. It wouldn’t end well if it were found in his possession, so in his robes it would stay.
That night, Jordie dreamed of pouring the contents of the pouch onto his tongue. He dreamed of limitless power, of showing Kaz that he was not a stupid little boy anymore. He dreamed of reunion, and of retribution.
Notes:
Next chapter: Inej makes a visit
Chapter 7: Inej
Notes:
Half of this chapter is just some self-indulgent inej hanging out with wesper and not much actual plot until the end lmao but anyways hope y'all enjoy!!
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
She had only been gone two months.
Two months, and she was already back here. As much as Inej had come to love the sway of the sea beneath her feet, she had missed the solidity and irregularity of the Ketterdam rooftops.
She had no reason to be back here so soon, slinking above the streets of Ketterdam. Especially not in this part of the city, where nightfall actually meant things went quiet. She knew this would just leave her even more attached to the city than she already was if she couldn't go even a month away from it.
But she’d been passing by, anyways, and the saints knew that Kaz needed someone to keep him in check. But she wasn’t on her way to him yet. She had decided to visit Jesper and Wylan first, as the two had begun to adopt a lifestyle a bit more in line with the sun than most Barrel dwellers typically kept. She had to catch them before they went to sleep.
The Van Eck manor was quickly recognizable, with its wide windows and grey-brown brick. She deftly leapt onto the dark shingled roof and slid onto the ledge of one of the fourth floor windows. She unlocked it fairly easily—they needed to fix that—and pushed it open just enough for her to slip inside. She silently padded towards the stairs, and made her way down to the first floor where she could hear faint chatter.
“—get himself killed? I mean, if I were a Tide, I’d definitely want to shut him up,” Jesper was saying.
“I think half of the city wants to shut him up,” came Wylan’s voice. “At least the Council does. I swear he will be the death of me.” Inej peeked around the stairwell and saw Wylan sitting at the dining room table, papers scattered in front of him covered in the lines and dots of sheet music. He had his head in his hands. Jesper sat beside him, arms crossed and leaned back in his chair precariously in the way that Kaz always gave him looks for. Inej lightly rapped her knuckles on the bannister. Both quickly looked up, Jester's hand drifting towards his side and Wylan’s eyes going wide. As their gazes landed on her, Jesper immediately broke out into a grin.
“Inej!” He made his way over to her and pulled her into a hug. “Don't scare us like that, I'd rather not accidentally shoot you. Did you come in through the window?”
“Yes.” She detached herself from him after a moment and glanced towards Wylan, who'd risen and was smiling at her, too. “You need to lock your windows better.”
“I will get on that.” He placed a hand to his lips in thought. “I didn't realize you'd be back to visit so soon.”
“I was in the area.” She gave Wylan a brief hug, then slipped into the chair on the other side of him. “I heard a bit of your conversation. What is Kaz up to now?”
Wylan sighed and rolled his eyes. “He asked me last week if I would convince the council to force the Council of Tides to register.”
“He's been having some… issues with them, supposedly,” Jesper added, returning to his balancing act in his chair. “Says a Tide was looking for him a few weeks ago, but they attacked him and got away. This is all just his revenge. Basically, Kaz is being Kaz, and we're all just being dragged along with it. Quite surprising, isn't it?”
Jesper was right—this was not out of the ordinary at all for Kaz. He was always forming convoluted revenge plots over things that didn't always even warrant them. The thing that concerned Inej was the fact that he was doing it with the Council of Tides. Many may argue that they were second to the Merchant Council in nearly every regard, but that was far from true. Inej knew that, and Kaz must, too. He was sticking his hand into a tank of sharks, sharks who could swallow her little ship on the sea whole if he provoked them enough. She prayed that he knew what he was getting into, the risk it could pose to not only himself, but to others. To her.
“Why would the Council be attacking him in the first place?” she asked finally. “Surely they know better than to poke a bear without reason.”
“Maybe they're still pissed about the fake plague,” Jesper suggested. Wylan just frowned.
“See, I'm not so sure,” he mused. “I had a run in with two of the council members a few weeks ago, in the Stadhall. One of them seemed like some sort of leader, and the other…” Wylan sighed and shook his head a bit. “It was so strange, I thought perhaps I was just seeing things. But I don't think I was, I noticed the other looked a bit like Kaz. And when Kaz described the Tidemaker who confronted him, it sounded like the same person.”
Jesper snorted. “He looked like Kaz? Does Kaz have a brother we don't know about or something?”
“He had a brother,” said Inej softly. Had. But this Kaz lookalike specifically being the one to visit Kaz himself felt purposeful. Either the Council of Tides knew what they were doing when they sent him, or he volunteered or went of his own volition, not as a Tide, for some sort of sentimental reason. “Was there anything else about him?”
“He had plague scars.”
Inej heard Kaz's voice rasping in her head. The plague. It was all so strange, the way it lined up. It was almost too perfect. Had Kaz’s brother been a Tidemaker? Kaz very well could have just neglected to mention that to her. There was still a lot about his childhood he had never told her, after all.
But Kaz was smart. Surely, if his brother were a Tidemaker, Kaz would have realized that was who the man was. Perhaps Kaz never even knew? But then why wouldn't he have said something to Kaz by now, if he really were his brother?
“Did you ever tell him you met those Tides?” Jesper asked.
“No. I got worried because one of them looked like him, and I knew that bringing it up would get me roped into it and I don't want to be,” Wylan admitted sheepishly. “Not that I have a choice now that he's gone and roped me in anyways.”
“You know, Rotty told me the other day that Kaz was talking about building a tunnel from the Crow Club to our house,” said Jesper. “Can you even believe him? I swear, someday I'm going to wake up to him standing over my bed, telling me it's time to go break into Shu Han for some stupid reason. I already have nightmares about it.”
“I think he's just having a hard time. We all just left him, didn't we?” Wylan reminded him.
“That is a good point,” Inej agreed. She, Jesper, and Kaz had seen each other every day for over a year. Then, the six of them had travelled together to Fjerda and back. Of course it was an abrupt change once they all went their separate ways. It was rough for Inej, of course, going out into the sea alone, the only familiar face being Specht. But he was still walking the same floors, only he had to do so without anyone beside him. He was perhaps going a bit too far with a tunnel, but she could see where he was coming from.
“I am a bit worried, though. Since I told him no. I don't know what he'll do, I don't usually tell him no.”
“Don't worry about it. If we find his waterlogged corpse floating in the harbor tomorrow, that's his problem, not ours,” said Jesper. Wylan furrowed his brows and his mouth fell open, but Jesper quickly interjected. “I'm kidding, I'm kidding. I don't think they could kill him if they tried, anyways.”
“But they could…” Wylan let out a heavy sigh as his head fell into his hands, nimble fingers poking out of his curls. “Ghezen, he's a fucking idiot.”
“It's like Jesper said—sort of,” said Inej, “it's not our fault that he picks these fights. He always works his way out of them.” But he'd always done it with you and Jesper at his side, a little voice in her head reminded her. There wasn't time to think about that now. Jesper stood, coming up behind Wylan and placing a hand on his shoulder after a quick shared glance.
“You're right,” he relented. His head lifted up and he looked up at Jesper, leaning on his arm a bit. “I've just had a lot recently, I think it's all getting to me. The Council is miserable. I hate it. Every single person has their own agendas that they refuse to tell anyone, so I have no idea what they're even trying to accomplish, and they all seem to oppose anything that would actually be good for the city. And none of them even listen to me, it's as if I'm not there.”
“I will always suffer with you, sunshine.” Jesper took his hand from Wylan's shoulder for a brief moment to brush a knuckle against his cheek in the briefest show of affection. “Even though those meetings are boring as hell.”
“You don't have to go if you really don't want to.”
“Of course I do. What am I supposed to do, leave you to be bored and locked in a room with those assholes alone? Besides, who else are you supposed to laugh with when Naten thinks no one can hear his farts?”
“That is true.” He leaned into Jesper’s arm once more for a moment before starting suddenly. “Oh, would you like some tea or something? Sorry that we've been talking about Kaz this whole time, I promise our lives don't actually revolve around him.”
Jesper grinned cheekily at her. “Yeah, we would never take him from you like that.”
“Jes,” she sighed, rolling her eyes. She hadn't realized how much she'd missed his teasing. “But I'm alright. I'll be heading out soon, I'm planning on staying at the Slat.”
“Say hi to Kaz for me if you find him. Tell him he's stupid.”
“Will do.”
“You owe us a story about your time as a pirate when you come back,” said Wylan. “I'm assuming you'll be back by tomorrow.”
“Of course. I would never leave without telling you both all about my time killing slavers and drinking. There was a lot of drinking, actually.” She stood and nodded to the couple. “Well then, I will see you both tomorrow. I suppose it's time to go try and talk some sense into Kaz.” Deciding to use the usual method of exit this time, she opened the door and began to step out.
“Good luck!” Wylan called after her as the door shut and she stepped into the dark street.
She sailed over the roofs of the Barrel while the streets bustled below her. They glowed with the lights of the gambling houses, each competing to be the brightest. It was a familiar, almost comforting din. She was on her way to Fifth Harbor, after a quick stop by the Crow Club revealed Kaz to be at the harbor for some reason.
As she began to near the harbor, the crowds began to thin. She could see the sea in the distance, glimmering enticingly. For a moment she was on her ship, staring out at the stars in the reflection of the water. The Tides’ Tower jutted out into the horizon, and she recalled what Wylan and Jesper had told her, about Kaz pushing the limits with them. Jesper had been joking about finding Kaz floating in the harbor waters, but nothing was impossible. She knew firsthand the dangers of the sea.
The docks were fairly empty. A few people shuffled past, mostly poorer residents of the city who were unfortunate enough to not find work in the Barrel. A few others were disembarking a fine ship strung with lights, dressed far nicer. The ship bore the flag of Novyi Zem. Down the docks she could faintly see The Wraith, its tall mast one of many. She felt drawn to it, and began to make her way towards it.
About half of the distance there, she paused on the rooftop of an inn. There, on the pier just below her, was a strange cloud of mist. It clung to the air unnaturally just in that one area, only above the wooden planks. That wasn’t normal, she knew that quite certainly. And then the first figure stepped through the mist. Then another, then another, until there were six. They were all dressed identically in long, flowing blue robes and masks that looked like the heavens above them, making the only distinguishing feature between them their varying statures.
After another second of fully taking in the scene, she realized they were circling a dark figure. A long coat, dark hair, the faint tap of something other than just footsteps with each movement. Kaz?
“Kaz Brekker,” echoed the voice of one of the Tides. This one stood forward a bit from the others, and spoke with an accent that Inej recognized from Ravka. “You make threats against us and our security.”
“My actions are only in response to your own,” an achingly familiar voice rasped back. Inej wanted to drop from the roof right then to greet him and stand at his side, but she knew better.
“And what are these actions that we have supposedly taken to warrant such retaliation?” The lead Tidemaker asked haughtily.
“Sending one of your Tides—” Kaz very clearly examined each of the robed figures encircling him, “—to watch me in my own place of business.”
“I do not know what you speak of.” Two of the Tides behind her looked at each other uneasily. The mist began to swell around Kaz, clinging to his coat.
“Surely you must.”
“I have not done such a thing. I have no need for spies. If what you claim is true, it was not someone acting on the behalf of the Council of Tides.” As she spoke, irritation flooded her voice like tall waves crashing over the deck of a boat. “That means that it does not beg you to drag the Merchant Council into this.”
“If I had not done so, would we be standing here, speaking to one another?”
“Request a meeting and I will negotiate. There is no need to bring the security of my own people into question,” she hissed.
“Then deal with those who wish to act under your name, if that really is true. If not, you remember the plague from a few months ago.”
Even though Inej couldn’t see the lead Tidemaker’s face underneath her starry mask, she knew the rage that had to be brewing underneath it. “There will be a day where I will flood all that you hold dear, Kaz Brekker. You will face retribution for the threats you have dared make against me.” The thick mist around his feet was crystallizing into ice on the dock, forming into points in a circle around him pointing inwards. Out of habit, Inej ghosted her fingers over one of the knives at her side as she kept her gaze locked on the scene.
“I await that day. I expect it will be the one where I finally learn your name.”
“You don't know what you toy with,” said the Tide with her head high. In barely even a blink, the figures disappeared, replaced by thick mist. The icy protrusions still encircled Kaz. He just stood there for a moment, then glanced down the dock in the direction of The Wraith . She carefully dropped from the rooftop and silently landed on the planks below.
“Inej,” he said. There was a strange softness to his voice that she didn’t quite recognize. He turned to look at her. He hadn’t really changed since she’d last seen him. He sported red accents on his nice clothes, which were new. But his face was the same as it had been in the memories that stuck with her while at sea.
“Kaz.” She kept her head high as she maintained his eye contact. He broke it off after a moment, and focused his attention on using his cane to clear away the thin icicles surrounding him. “Jes warned me I may find you swimming in the harbor. I’d thought for a moment that you would prove him right.”
“I always aspire to prove Jesper wrong.” He stopped a few feet in front of her. “I should head back to the Crow Club. How long will you be in town?”
“I'm not sure yet. No more than a week, most likely.”
“And are you staying at the Slat?”
“If you’ll have me.” She couldn’t help the small smile that crept onto her lips as Kaz’s eyes softened just slightly.
“Of course.” He held her gaze for a moment longer. His eyes were almost black in the low light, and Inej briefly longed to see his eyes turn amber the way they did in sunlight. But then he looked away and set off down the street, a wordless cue for her to follow. She did, walking side by side rather than trailing from above as she once had.
Notes:
Next chapter: Jordie makes a decision
Chapter 8: Jordie
Notes:
Apologies if anything formats weird, my wifi's out so I'm posting this from my phone lol
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
The door slammed shut, echoing through the tower. Jordie heard the din of voices as the group who had gone to speak with Kaz returned. He wanted to speak with them, to beg them to tell him what they'd learned, but he couldn't do that. So he forced himself to stay laying on his bed, reading the same page of his book that he'd had open for an hour.
“Jordie,” came Henrik’s gruff voice from the doorway. He was an imposing figure in those robes with his hood still up. Jordie could tell why Rian brought him along.
“What?” He said tiredly.
“Rian needs to speak with you.” Jordie studied him more fully. There was something in his eyes, some sort of worry and recognition that was uncharacteristic to him. Anxiety lodged itself in his stomach. Was he in trouble? Did she realize he'd found that parem? Did she find out he'd snuck out to see Kaz? He'd never thought he'd have a day where he had done so much that he could get in trouble over.
“Fuck, okay.” He swung himself out of bed. Henrik just watched him carefully as they began to walk down the hall towards the stairs. “What?” He asked again, dreading the answer even as the word slipped out.
“You were so young. You never learned to cover your tracks.” Jordie’s stomach leapt to his mouth, and he blanched. It was true that Jordie had not experienced a lot of what the others had. They would tell stories of having to hide their powers at all costs in their jobs, every moment of their lives. Adrie had been in the navy, where revealing such a thing would lead to ostracization and being taken advantage of. Henrik had come from Fjerda, where discovery meant death. Compared to that, Jordie having to keep things hidden from a child was nothing.
“Did you know?” he asked shakily.
“You stole my clothes.”
“I knew you wouldn't say anything if you noticed.”
“You don't need to pretend that you thought it all out. You made a mistake. We all have.”
Jordie huffed indignantly. “I just don't get it. Why does everyone still treat me like a child? You all keep things from me, as if I wouldn't notice.”
“That is a question for Rian, not me.” He gestured to Rian's open door down the hall. Jordie stared at it apprehensively. The bag of parem still weighed down his pocket.
“Good luck.” Henrik clapped a hand on his shoulder. Jordie pressed his lips into a smile and nodded.
Rian stood at the window, back to him. Jordie briefly noted her penchant for the dramatic, but that sentiment quickly fled his mind as she turned to face him. Her face was steely, all of the warmth he was used to drained away. “Jordan.”
He didn't even say anything, only closed the door shut behind him. The sole light, a flickering candle, cast dancing shadows about the walls.
“You disobeyed my direct orders,” she said. “You know that I do not appreciate insubordination.”
“Yes,” he said softly. He so desperately wanted to defend himself, but it would be a fool's errand. The best he could do now is just own up to it.
“How did you know to find him?”
He blinked. “I'm sorry?”
“Your brother.”
“I didn't. I was just curious who Dirtyhands was. I didn't know he was Kaz until he threatened me.”
“And this is when you revealed your abilities to him, is it not?”
“Yes.”
“I understand.” She adjusted her robes, looking regal as mist coalesced around her. “It is hard to let go of our past. But you have broken some of the rules we most hold dear. They are in place for a reason— they guarantee our safety, our sanctity. And we cannot exist if we cling to a life we cannot have.” He knew all of that. He knew he would never be able to be Kaz’s brother again. He had lost it all before. But he wanted to. He wanted to escape all of these rules and walls, caging him into this life of secrecy. He wanted it back.
“Of course.” He put a bit more eagerness into his voice. Let her see someone ready to do as she says, someone desperate for a lighter sentence.
“You are still young. I will not banish you from your position or anything of the sort. But you are never to leave our towers without express permission from me.”
“I— alright.”
Some of the hard lines in her face disappeared, and she took a step towards him. “Your brother is not the one you once had. Do not forget that. You are not losing anything you haven't already lost.”
He almost began to believe her. After all, he'd seen Kaz that day, heard the rumors of his atrocities. But then he felt the pouch pressing against his side. He had no reason to believe her— in fact, he had evidence as to why he shouldn't. His brother was still there. He had changed, of course, but Jordie had, as well. That was all time did. He was still Kaz.
“I'm sorry about all of this,” she said. “Just remember this is for the good of all of us. We need our secrets to survive.”
“Of course.” He began to step back. “Thank you.” Her lips twitched slightly upwards, but she said nothing. As Jordie shut the door, his mind was already whirling. Henrik’s stolen clothes were still stashed under his bed. He knew the watch schedule. He could leave tonight. If he did, he couldn’t come back, but he had no need to. He had greater, grander things ahead of him, and no one could stop him.
Shivering slightly from his journey from the tower to the mainland, he stripped off his robes and changed them out for the coat he’d worn before. With a flick of his wrist, the water flew from his skin and hair and scattered onto the stones below him.
He had been worried about attempting to retrace his steps back to the Crow Club, but it turned out it was easy to find the direction the Barrel was in. It was the way everyone was going, where he could see a faint glow from above the roofs of the residential neighborhood he was in.
He kept his head down this time. He couldn’t risk anyone taking notice of him. It was a bit difficult to navigate while doing so as he entered the Barrel, but by then there were so many people that he doubted anyone would spare him a second glance. He was just another face in the crowd.
The Crow Club was as busy as the last time he’d been there. A burly young man stood at the door, arms crossed. A few people in red shouted advertisements for the club into the crowd. A young boy with straw colored hair made one coin become two then four. Jordie hesitated a moment before heading in the boy’s direction.
He looked up with wide eyes as he realized that someone was approaching him. He couldn’t have been older than thirteen. “Would you like to see a trick?”
“Sure.”
“Watch, you see? I have a pen.” He held out a black pen in his gloved hands. “But then…” He waved his hands, and the pen vanished between his fingers. He turned his hands to show that it was gone, smiling widely. “If you like my magic, I take tips!” Jordie looked down at the pouch sitting at the boy’s feet, then back up at him.
“No one else gets your money, right? It’s all yours?”
“Yep! Usually, I’d have to pay a bit for a good spot like this, but Mister Brekker doesn’t mind.”
And to think that Rian thought he’d believe that his brother was gone. Kaz had seen a boy like they had been, and offered him a way to survive. A boy who did tricks like Kaz had, a boy who was the age Jordie had been when they’d come to Ketterdam. Well, Jordie had always had a bit of a competitive streak. He pulled out some of his winnings from his last visit and withdrew a twenty Kruge bill. The boy’s eyes went comically wide as Jordie held it out to him. “Best keep it on you, just to be safe. Don’t want someone to take it from you. There’s lots of bad folks in this city.”
“I— oh, wow! Ghezen, thank you, sir!” He took the bill eagerly and shoved it into his pocket. Jordie smiled as he made his way over to the door. He hadn’t found anyone to show him kindness when he was young. But he— they— could keep other little kids from their fates.
The man at the door faltered a bit at the sight of Jordie. That was strange. Not that it mattered anymore, now that he was where he needed to be. He needed Kaz to know he was there.
“You been in here before?” He asked.
“I have.”
“That’s what I thought. Hang on.” He called inside for one of the other gang members, and a girl with yellow hair, shaved on one side, approached. As she caught sight of Jordie, she did a double take.
“Shit. Jes may have been onto something.” She stared at him for a moment more, tilting her head to the side a bit, before straightening with a huff. “Okay. Fuck. I’m Anika, and I’ll be taking you to the boss, I suppose.”
“Alright.” He began to trail after her as she pushed through the crowd. Though he didn’t catch the eyes of any of the patrons, he noticed most of the employees of the club staring at him. “Did Kaz have everyone on the lookout for me or something?”
“Pretty much. Who are you, anyways?”
He hesitated. His instinct was to use a fake name. But then again, he was going to see Kaz, who surely would soon realize who he was. What was the point? “Jordan Rietveld.” Anika just hummed in response.
“Stay behind me,” she said. They were heading to the back corner, where a pair of figures sat. The first, perched on a table, was a girl. She looked around seventeen, with warm brown skin and dark hair trailing down in a long braid. She was dressed oddly, in a fashion that almost felt reminiscent of a seafarer. The second, in a chair, was Kaz. The girl’s eyes immediately locked on him as they approached, and she sucked in a breath.
“Saints…” she murmured. Kaz looked up. He immediately gripped his cane (why did Kaz have a cane? He would have to ask) and shot to his feet.
“You,” he snarled.
Jordie raised his hands into the air. “I mean you no harm. I just want to talk.”
“Kaz,” said the girl.
“You can tie me up, bind my hands. I just want you to listen.”
“Fine.” Kaz glowered at him before turning to Anika. “Clear out one of the private rooms upstairs. Tie him up and bring him there.”
Anika led him upstairs and into a room. A table filled most of the space, with four chairs around it. A cabinet sat against the wall, with bottles of liquor inside. There were no windows. Anika gestured for him to sit in a chair.
“There better not be any funny business,” she said as she pulled a rope from her belt. “I doubt your wrists being bound could really stop your magic if you tried.”
“I have no plans to harm anyone unless someone has a knife to my neck again.” The rope was rough against his wrists behind the chair. “I also didn't know who he was until then.”
“And who is that?”
“I think you've guessed.”
“Well then I wish you luck. He's an asshole.” She tugged on his binds once more and then headed to the door. As she opened it, Kaz and the girl stepped in.
“Hello,” he said, trying to lean a bit in his chair to maintain an air of causality. It was pretty much impossible with his hands behind his back. Kaz stopped a couple of feet in front of him, staring him down. Jordie could see the knife half-tucked under his sleeve.
“Who are you?”
“My name is Jordan Rietveld.” Kaz's scowl faltered. “I grew up just outside of Lij. My mother died giving birth to my brother. My father died in a farming accident. My brother and I came to the city, where we were taken advantage of by a cruel man posing as a mercher. When the plague hit, we both got sick. I nearly died. I thought he did. We both ended up on the Reaper's Barge—”
“Stop,” Kaz rasped. He stared at Jordie with a stricken expression. His eyes were wide and vacant, and for the first time since Jordie had met Dirtyhands he looked scared. “That's not possible. I saw him, I saw his corpse—”
“I was nearly dead. It was only the water that kept me alive, and one of the Tides saved me. I don't remember it myself,” he said. “If you still don't believe me, I can keep going. We had a dog, Bloem, when we were growing up. She died a year before Da, from eating some poisonous berries in the thicket behind the house. You cried so hard that day, because you thought she died from you accidentally kicking her the day before. That trick the boy outside was doing, with the pen, kept you up at night for days trying to figure it out. The first thing we used our money for after I took out the loan to use on the stocks was to go to the arcade, where we played games until the sun went down. And when we realized that it was all a scam, I told you over and over that it wasn't, that they would come back, even though I knew you didn't believe me and I didn't believe it either, because I couldn't admit that I'd failed you just like every other person in our lives who'd failed us.”
They just held each other's gazes for what felt like a lifetime, as if they had to make up the past eight years in mere moments. Kaz still only looked half present, like he was seeing past Jordie to the boy he had been. Jordie did his best to keep his expression neutral, even though he wanted to cry and shout at the same time. And then Kaz twirled his knife in his fingers. Jordie watched the blade dance across his knuckles, fighting the urge to laugh at the irony of it all. Whatever he was doing with that knife, Jordie could only see the coin.
But then Kaz stepped to the side and slashed at the rope binding his hands.
He didn't say anything as Jordie lifted his hands and twisted his wrists. As the silence soured into something awkward, Jordie glanced towards the girl who'd settled against the wall. “I don't believe we've met. I'm Jordie.”
“Inej.”
“Pleasure.”
“Kaz never told me you were a Tidemaker.”
“I never knew,” said Kaz with a tense glance in Jordie’s direction. Jordie sighed.
“Da never let me tell you. I got in trouble any time I ever even used my powers. By the time he died, I was too scared to tell you, and I knew that being Grisha was dangerous in Ketterdam. But I was never good at it as a kid, anyways, though I suppose I made up for it now with all my years of practice. Though it’s all in the presentation, really.” He held out a hand and pulled the moisture from the air around him, forming a little coil weaving around his arm and hand. “I don't know what I'll do now, though. I don't know if I can go back.”
“You left the Council?” Kaz asked sharply.
“The better word would probably be ‘defected’. I was told that if I ever left the Towers without permission again my position would be revoked. And they don't exactly like people walking free. If Rian would let me stay, I would, but it isn't worth my freedom.”
“So where will you go?” Said Inej.
“Ah, well, I didn't think that far ahead.”
“Why are you looking at me?” Kaz asked Inej, who was watching him expectantly.
“There's room in the Slat. If you could give me and Jes and Nina a place to stay when we needed it, you can spare room for your own brother.”
“Fine.” His cane tapped on the wooden floor as he took a step towards the door. “Come with me.”
“Shit, okay.” He hurried to fall into step a few places behind him. As they walked down the stairs, Jordie surveyed the club once more. This was all his brother's. He wondered how he'd gotten there, what it took. How much had he suffered, alone, because of Jordie's own failures?
A few of the gang members were staring again as they made their way along the edge of the room. Jordie suddenly felt a bit self conscious of his oversized coat. He would have to get a new one if he was going to stay here, since Kaz was shorter than him. He missed the comfort of the robes he'd worn for years, the feeling of the fabric falling over him like water.
He saw something out of the corner of his eye. The window. On the clear pane of glass, droplets of water beaded into three letters. RUN. Jordie tensed and glanced at Kaz. He didn't know how he'd been found so quickly, but he couldn't bring Kaz into it. Not when Rian already hated him. He wouldn't drag Kaz into anything he didn't choose again. This was his fight, and his alone.
They cut through a small group of tourists, and Jordie used the crowd as a way to carefully slip away from where he'd been walking behind Kaz as if he'd just gotten caught behind someone. He hesitated for a moment, staring after Kaz’s dark hair as it moved further and further away. He would get back to him. This wasn't it. He would get the Tides off his back, and then he wouldn't ever have to leave again. Jordie sucked in a deep breath, ducked his head, and snuck back to the back of the club.
A moment later, he stepped out into the alley. It was the same one where he and Kaz had fought the first time, an irony not lost on Jordie. Jordie held his hands ready to summon water, looking out.
“There!” Shouted a familiar voice. Ervin, one of the other Tides. And then next thing he knew, he was surrounded on all sides by familiar figures in blue robes. He couldn't tell who was who with the masks, and it dawned on him that this was how people saw them. Mysterious figures, nameless and homogeneous. Ready to drag him back to the life he never chose. With that thought in mind, Jordie leapt into action.
He sent bolts of ice flying towards one, fast enough to catch them off guard and embed into their shoulder. A cloud of mist went towards another two in an attempt to obscure their vision. He had practiced this hundreds of times, but not against opponents who knew the same tricks he did, who could turn them on him easily. One of the Tides sent water crawling up his feet and legs, aiming to freeze it, but he flung it away with a flick of his hand. Another swiped away the mist, now a hazy white, and flung it at him. Thousands of shards of ice battered his face. He stumbled, his hand flying wildly through the air to deflect the rest.
In his moment of distraction, he took too long to notice the hand grabbing his wrist and wrenching him back. He shoved against them, but they were stronger than him. They pinned him with one arm and wrapped the other around his neck, squeezing tight. He gasped desperately for air, vision swimming. His thoughts were only of Kaz as the world faded to black.
Notes:
Next chapter: an interlude
Chapter Text
“—other topics to address today?”
Wylan took a deep breath. A hand squeezed his under the table, and he looked to Jesper appreciatively. He nodded back. Wylan stood.
“The Council of Tides have encroached on the city. They attacked someone in the depths of the Barrel last night. A man was taken captive.”
A few of the other councilmen glanced at each other. Wylan knew they trusted the Council of Tides less than they did each other, which was hardly at all. They would jump at a chance to force their hand. Kaz knew that, too. That was why he'd bothered coming to Wylan in the first place.
“We ought to call a meeting with them,” said Dryden. “Tell them that they do not have jurisdiction here without our permission.”
Boreg scoffed. “Why waste our time with diplomacy? It doesn't work with them, we should take action. We have wasted away long enough bending to their will. This is our city.”
As the Council began to bicker about what to do, Jesper caught Wylan's eye. Things had been set in motion, and they'd done their part.
It was a summer day, and Kaz was bored. His father was out plowing the fields, and Jordie was reading. Kaz didn't understand how he read so much, since he didn't have that many books. Did he just read them over and over? That sounded boring.
He sat by the window in his bedroom, halfway through a book with a castle on the cover. Kaz leaned over to look at the pages, and Jordie pulled away from him.
“Go away, Kaz, I'm reading.”
“I'm bored.”
“Go help Da or something.”
“But I don't like to do that.”
Jordie sighed and put down his book. “If I go play a game with you, will you leave me alone after?”
“Yep!” Kaz bobbed his head eagerly. “Can we play hide and seek?”
“Sure. You can hide first. Anywhere inside or outside, okay?” Kaz scurried off as Jordie covered his eyes and began to count. He lodged himself underneath Da's bed, trying to hold in his laughter.
As he heard Jordie stop counting and began to move about, he listened carefully. His footsteps moved about, down the hall and towards the kitchen. Then the footsteps faltered, and the door opened. He must have decided to search outside.
He laid there in silence for a few minutes, growing antsy. What good was a game if he was still bored? But then the door opened, and he heard footsteps again, much faster than before. “Kaz? Kaz!” Jordie sounded scared. “Kaz! The game’s over, come out!”
He wormed his way out and got to his feet, hurrying out into the hall. Jordie’s eyes were wide as saucers as he grabbed Kaz by the shoulders. “I need you to run to the Bruins’. Now. Tell them Da needs help.”
“Why?”
“Just go, quick!” And then Jordie hurried back out the door. Kaz scampered after. The midday sun beat down on the golden fields. Except out there, in the middle of the field, there were what looked like red flowers growing in the wheat. They didn't have flowers. But then, a bit further, he saw someone laying on the ground. Da. But why would he be laying down in the field like that?
“What—”
“Go!” Jordie shouted, sprinting over towards Da. Kaz nodded and set off towards the neighbor's house.
Whoever that representative from the Merchant Council was, Adrie didn't trust him one bit. She'd watched him leave the tower looking oddly smug, and now Rian was calling a meeting of the entire Council. She looked practically murderous— she'd been that way since the night before, when she commanded a squad to go out and retrieve Jordie.
“Our counterpart ,” Rian began, “has decided to poke their noses into our own governance. As you all know, we have had a recent issue that involved a trip into the city. They view this as an overstep of our power, when it was simply enacting our own rules.” Adrie couldn't help but picture Jordie, limp in Ervin’s arms. She'd tried to warn him, but it wasn't enough. She should have known he wouldn't have been able to escape.
Rian clasped her hands behind her back, the epitome of regality. “I loathe to take such drastic measures, but I cannot stand the disrespect we have faced from various points of leadership in Ketterdam. We must show our might, and bring down the place that this city values most.”
The small group began to clamor, emboldened by the claim. Adrie just glanced at Henrik beside her, who was chewing his lip thoughtfully. This was not a day she ever foresaw coming, and certainly not in these circumstances.
They were going to send a wave onto the Stadhall.
When Kaz returned, neighbors in tow, Jordie was crouched over Da. As Kaz got closer, he could see better. Those weren't flowers, they looked too much like blood, like the kind he spat out when he lost his tooth the week before. And Da was covered in it too. His arms were bent in a way that he knew couldn't be right. His face was frozen, the blood only on his forehead and in the crevices of his face like someone had tried to wash it off.
Missus Bruin behind him let out a gasp. “Oh, Ghezen.”
“Do something!” Jordie cried.
“Sons, why don't you go inside?” She said dazedly. She placed a hand on Kaz's back to guide him forward, and held out a hand for Jordie. Jordie ignored it and shook Da’s shoulder. Kaz wanted to see up close, too. He had to say something to Da, he couldn't just leave him. When Bloem had died, Da had let him and Jordie say goodbye one last time before she died.
He tried to run forwards, but Missus Bruin held him back. He shouted and squirmed in her grip, but she didn't let go. She led him back over to her house, and at some point Jordie decided to come with them.
They sat in the living room while Missus Bruin had her husband and son go help Da. She was in the kitchen, making them tea. Kaz didn't want tea. He wanted his Da.
“I'll protect you, Kaz,” said Jordie. “I won't die for a long, long time. I won't leave you.”
“But what if you have to go somewhere?”
“Then I'll come back to you as soon as I can. I promise, I’ll always come back.” He poked Kaz in the side, which tickled, but he didn't sound very excited when he talked. Kaz just nodded and chewed the inside of his cheek, wondering how two little boys were supposed to survive on their own.
Kaz had almost drowned twice. He remembered the feeling vividly. The choking on something thicker than water, the burning in his chest. The first time was in the harbor, surrounded by bodies, the second escaping the Ice Court. He knew he wasn’t drowning now, not here in his office in the Slat. But it felt like it.
He had pushed that feeling away for a day and a half. After all, he was no stranger to going about his daily routine with what felt like an ocean’s worth of water hanging over his head, ready to sweep him away the moment he had time to give it. But it came crashing down, and all he could see and think and comprehend was Jordie.
It shouldn’t have been possible. Kaz had moved on as well as he could, and it was ridiculous that Jordie had the nerve to reappear and send him spiralling once more. He wanted to believe this was just another instance of seeing Jordie where he wasn’t, just a specter dreamed into existence by an off-kilter mind. But Inej had seen him, too. He was real, just as real as the flesh he'd clutched onto in the harbor all those years ago. Had he been alive then? Or had it been him at all? Had his brother already been whisked off to a life in those towers like a fairytale princess, while the boy who was no longer Kaz Rietveld fought his way back to shore?
Jordie had promised to stay by his side. He had sworn that he would always come back for him. And somehow, he had expected to keep that promise while handing away the only thing they had left. He was just another pigeon. Just another fool from the countryside. And now that Kaz had seen the real Jordie, the idealistic lens of his nine-year-old self was ripped away and he could see past the illusion he had crafted in his head over the years.
He had no reason to save his brother. Jordie had already gotten his chance, all those years ago, and squandered it. He hadn’t been there to save Kaz when he was drowning in Fjerda, when his leg shattered against the cobbled streets, when he crawled onto the docks. And now, he had left again. He had broken his promise, just like before. Kaz did not owe him another opportunity to squander. But the Tides were still a nuisance that he would have to deal with, and Jordie was inextricably entwined with them. He would not be able to escape his brother, a fact that Kaz was resigned to. But Jordie could not be his priority. Kaz couldn’t let him be.
Notes:
Kaz totally isn't struggling with this at all guys hes just fine /s
Also just a heads up, I'll be taking a brief break from weekly updates. I'm moving next week and will be pretty busy, and I've been wanting to rewrite some of the later chapters anyways so I'm planning on taking a week or two to do that as well. I should be back to regular updates in a few weeks!!
Skylanian_Writer on Chapter 1 Wed 25 Jun 2025 04:18AM UTC
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strangestcrows on Chapter 1 Sun 29 Jun 2025 03:55AM UTC
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nofishes on Chapter 1 Wed 25 Jun 2025 10:05AM UTC
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strangestcrows on Chapter 1 Sun 29 Jun 2025 03:55AM UTC
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Skylanian_Writer on Chapter 2 Sun 29 Jun 2025 01:27AM UTC
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strangestcrows on Chapter 2 Sun 29 Jun 2025 04:06AM UTC
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nofishes on Chapter 2 Sun 29 Jun 2025 09:24AM UTC
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strangestcrows on Chapter 2 Thu 03 Jul 2025 05:40AM UTC
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Skylanian_Writer on Chapter 3 Sat 05 Jul 2025 07:09PM UTC
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strangestcrows on Chapter 3 Fri 11 Jul 2025 07:07PM UTC
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nofishes on Chapter 3 Sun 06 Jul 2025 09:09AM UTC
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strangestcrows on Chapter 3 Fri 11 Jul 2025 07:09PM UTC
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Skylanian_Writer on Chapter 4 Sat 12 Jul 2025 08:48PM UTC
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strangestcrows on Chapter 4 Sat 19 Jul 2025 06:03PM UTC
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nofishes on Chapter 4 Sun 13 Jul 2025 07:36AM UTC
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nofishes on Chapter 4 Sun 13 Jul 2025 07:38AM UTC
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strangestcrows on Chapter 4 Sat 19 Jul 2025 06:05PM UTC
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Ghost_Rin on Chapter 5 Sat 19 Jul 2025 10:01PM UTC
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strangestcrows on Chapter 5 Fri 25 Jul 2025 04:49AM UTC
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Skylanian_Writer on Chapter 5 Sun 20 Jul 2025 02:35AM UTC
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strangestcrows on Chapter 5 Fri 25 Jul 2025 05:03AM UTC
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Skylanian_Writer on Chapter 6 Tue 29 Jul 2025 03:01PM UTC
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strangestcrows on Chapter 6 Sun 03 Aug 2025 02:10AM UTC
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nofishes on Chapter 7 Sun 03 Aug 2025 06:18AM UTC
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strangestcrows on Chapter 7 Sun 10 Aug 2025 02:12AM UTC
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Skylanian_Writer on Chapter 7 Tue 05 Aug 2025 03:06PM UTC
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strangestcrows on Chapter 7 Sun 10 Aug 2025 02:16AM UTC
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Skylanian_Writer on Chapter 8 Sun 10 Aug 2025 08:21PM UTC
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Skylanian_Writer on Chapter 9 Tue 19 Aug 2025 04:08PM UTC
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