فصل 11

11

INEJ

As Inej and Kaz moved farther from West Stave, the silence between them spread like a stain. They’d abandoned their capes and masks in a rubbish heap behind a run-down little brothel called the Velvet Room, where Kaz had apparently stashed another change of clothes for them. It was as if the whole city had become their wardrobe, and Inej couldn’t help but think of the conjurers who drew miles of scarves from their sleeves and vanished girls from boxes that always reminded her uncomfortably of coffins.

Dressed in the bulky coats and roughspun trousers of dockworkers, they made their way into the warehouse district, hair covered by hats, collars pulled up despite the warm weather. The eastern edge of the district was like a city within a city, populated mostly by immigrants who lived in cheap hotels and rooming houses or in shantytowns of plywood and corrugated tin, segregating themselves into ramshackle neighborhoods by language and nationality. At this time of day, most of the area’s denizens were at work in the city’s factories and docks, but on certain corners, Inej saw men and women gathered, hoping some foreman or boss would come along to offer a lucky few of them a day’s work.

After she’d been freed from the Menagerie, Inej had wandered the streets of Ketterdam, trying to make sense of the city. She’d been overwhelmed by the noise and the crowds, certain that Tante Heleen or one of her henchmen would catch her unawares and drag her back to the House of Exotics. But she’d known that if she was going to be useful to the Dregs and earn her way out of her new contract, she couldn’t let the strangeness of the clamor and cobblestones best her. We greet the unexpected visitor. She would have to learn the city.

She always preferred to travel along the rooftops, out of sight, free from the shuffle of bodies. There, she felt most herself again—the girl she’d once been, someone who hadn’t had the sense to be afraid, who hadn’t known what cruelty the world could offer. She’d gotten to know the gabled peaks and window boxes of the Zelverstraat, the gardens and wide boulevards of the embassy sector. She’d traveled far south to where the manufacturing district gave way to foul-smelling slaughterhouses and brining pits hidden at the very outskirts of the city, where their offal could be sluiced into the swamp at Ketterdam’s edge, and their stink was less likely to be sent wafting over the residential parts of town. The city had revealed its secrets to her almost shyly, in flashes of grandeur and squalor.

Now she and Kaz left the rooming houses and street carts behind, plunging deeper into the busy warehouse district and the area known as the Weft. Here, the streets and canals were clean and orderly, kept wide for the transportation of goods and cargo. They passed fenced-in acres of raw lumber and quarried stone, closely guarded stockpiles of weapons and ammunition, huge storehouses brimming with cotton, silk, canvas, and furs, and warehouses packed with the carefully weighed bundles of dried jurda leaves from Novyi Zem that would be processed and packaged into tins with bright labels, then shipped out to other markets.

Inej still remembered the jolt she’d felt when she saw the words Rare Spices painted on the side of one of the warehouses. It was an advertisement, the words framed by two Suli girls rendered in paint, brown limbs bare, the embroidery of their scant silks hinted at by golden brushstrokes. Inej had stood there, gaze fastened to the sign, less than two miles from where the rights to her body had been bought and sold and haggled over, her heart jackrabbiting in her chest, panic seizing her muscles, unable to stop staring at those girls, the bangles on their wrists, the bells around their ankles. Eventually she’d willed herself to move, and as if some spell had been broken, she’d run faster than she ever had, back to the Slat, racing over the rooftops, the city passing in gray glimpses below her reckless feet. That night she’d dreamed the painted girls had come to life. They were trapped in the brick wall of the warehouse, screaming to be set free, but Inej was powerless to help them.

Rare Spices. The sign was still there, faded from the sun. It still held power for her, made her muscles clench, her breath hitch. But maybe when she had her ship, when she’d brought down the first slaver, the paint would blister from the bricks. The cries of those girls in their mint-colored silks would turn to laughter. They would dance for no one but themselves. Ahead, Inej could see a high column topped by Ghezen’s Hand, casting its long shadow over the heart of Kerch’s wealth. She imagined her Saints wrapping ropes around it and sending it toppling to the ground.

She and Kaz drew no stares in their shapeless coats, two boys looking for work or on their way to the next shift. Still Inej could not breathe easily. The stadwatch patrolled the streets of the warehouse district regularly, and just in case that wasn’t enough protection, the shipping companies employed private guards to make sure the doors stayed locked and that none of the workers stocking, stacking, and transporting goods got too free with their hands. The warehouse district was one of the most secure places in Ketterdam, and because of that, it was the last spot Van Eck would look for them.

They approached an abandoned linen storehouse. The windows of its lower floors were broken, the bricks above them blackened by soot. The fire must have been recent, but the storehouse wouldn’t remain unoccupied for long; it would be cleaned out and rebuilt or simply razed for a new structure. Space was precious in Ketterdam.

The padlock on the back door was little challenge to Kaz, and they entered a lower story that had been badly damaged by the fire. The stairway near the front of the building seemed largely intact. They climbed, Inej moving lightly over the boards, Kaz’s tread punctuated by the rhythmic thunk of his cane.

When they reached the third floor, Kaz directed them to a stock room where bolts of linen were still piled high in giant pyramids. They were largely undamaged, but those on the bottom were stained with soot, and the fabric had a burnt, unpleasant smell. They were comfortable, though. Inej found a perch by a window that let her rest her feet on one bolt and her back on another. She was grateful to simply sit, to look out the window into the watery afternoon light. There wasn’t much to see, just the bare brick walls of the warehouses and the grove of huge sugar silos that loomed over the harbor.

Kaz took a tin from beneath one of the old sewing machines and passed it to her. She popped it open, revealing hazelnuts, crackers wrapped in wax paper, and a stoppered flask. So this was one of the safe houses Van Eck had been so eager to learn about. Inej uncorked the flask and sniffed.

“Water,” he said.

She drank deeply and ate a few of the stale crackers. She was famished, and she doubted she’d be getting a hot meal anytime soon. Kaz had warned her that they couldn’t return to Black Veil until nightfall, and even then, she didn’t think they’d be doing much cooking. She watched him push himself up onto the stack of bolts across from her, resting his cane beside him, but she forced her eyes back to the window, away from the precision of his movements, the taut line of his jaw. Looking at Kaz felt dangerous in a way it hadn’t before. She could see the mallet rise, glinting in the stage lights on Eil Komedie. He’ll never trade if you break me. She was grateful for the weight of her knives. She touched her hands to them as if greeting old friends, felt some of the tension inside her ease.

“What did you say to Van Eck on the bridge?” Kaz asked at last. “When we were making the trade?”

“You will see me once more, but only once.”

“More Suli proverbs?”

“A promise to myself. And Van Eck.”

“Careful, Wraith. You’re ill-suited to the revenge game. I’m not sure your Suli Saints would approve.”

“My Saints don’t like bullies.” She rubbed her sleeve over the dirty window. “Those explosions,” she said. “Will the others be all right?”

“None of them were stationed near where the bombs went off. At least not the ones we saw. We’ll know more when we’re back on Black Veil.”

Inej didn’t like that. What if someone had been hurt? What if all of them didn’t make it back to the island? After days of fear and waiting, sitting still while her friends might be in trouble was a new kind of frustration.

She realized Kaz was studying her, and turned her gaze to his. Sunlight slanted through the windows, turning his eyes the color of strong tea. He’ll never trade if you break me. She could feel the memory of the words, as if they’d burned her throat in the speaking.

Kaz didn’t look away when he said, “Did he hurt you?”

She wrapped her arms around her knees. Why do you want to know? So that you can be sure I’m capable of taking on some new danger? So that you can add to the list of wrongs for which Van Eck must be held to account?

Kaz had been clear about his arrangement with her from the beginning. Inej was an investment, an asset worthy of protection. She had wanted to believe they’d become more to each other. Jan Van Eck had robbed her of that illusion. Inej was whole, unharmed. She bore no scars or trauma from her ordeal on Eil Komedie that food and sleep would not ease. But Van Eck had taken something from her nonetheless. I’ll be no use to him anymore. Words torn from some hidden place inside her, a truth she could not unknow. She should be glad of it. Better terrible truths than kind lies.

She let her fingers drift to the place where the mallet had brushed her leg, saw Kaz’s eyes track the movement, stopped. She folded her hands in her lap, shook her head.

“No. He didn’t hurt me.”

Kaz leaned back, his gaze dismantling her slowly. He didn’t believe her, but she could not bring herself to try and convince him of this lie.

He propped his cane on the floor and used it to brace himself as he slid off the fabric pile. “Rest,” he said.

“Where are you going?”

“I have business near the silos, and I want to see what information I can pick up.” He left his cane leaning against one of the bolts.

“You’re not taking it?”

“Too conspicuous, especially if Van Eck has gotten the stadwatch involved. Rest,” he repeated. “You’ll be safe here.”

Inej closed her eyes. She could trust him enough for that.

When Kaz woke her, the sun was setting, gilding the tower of Ghezen in the distance. They left the storehouse, locking it behind them, and joined the workers walking home for the night. They continued south and east, dodging the busiest parts of the Barrel, where no doubt the stadwatch would be prowling, and headed toward a more residential area. In a narrow canal, they boarded a smallboat that they piloted down Grafcanal, and into the mists shrouding Black Veil Island.

Inej felt her excitement increasing as they picked their way through the mausoleums toward the center of the island. Let them be okay, she prayed. Let them all be okay. Finally, she glimpsed a dim light and heard the faint murmur of voices. She broke into a run, not caring when her cap slipped from her head to the vine-covered ground. She tore open the door to the tomb.

The five people inside rose, guns and fists raised, and Inej skidded to a halt.

Nina shrieked, “Inej!”

She flew across the room and crushed Inej in a tight hug. Then they were all around her at once, hugging her, clapping her on the back. Nina would not let go of her. Jesper threw his arms around both of them and crowed, “The Wraith returns!” as Matthias stood back, formal as ever but smiling. She looked from the Shu boy seated at the table in the center of the tomb to the identical Shu boy hovering in front of her.

“Wylan?” she asked of the one closest to her.

He broke into a grin, but it slipped sideways when he said, “Sorry about my father.”

Inej pulled him into the hug and whispered, “We are not our fathers.”

Kaz rapped his cane on the stone floor. He was standing in the doorway to the tomb. “If everyone is done cuddling, we have a job to do.”

“Hold up,” said Jesper, arm still slung around Inej. “We’re not talking about the job until we figure out what those things were on the Stave.”

“What things?” asked Inej.

“Did you miss half the Stave blowing up?”

“We saw the bomb at the White Rose go off,” said Inej, “and then we heard another explosion.”

“At the Anvil,” said Nina.

“After that,” Inej said, “we ran.”

Jesper nodded sagely. “That was your big mistake. If you’d stuck around, you could have nearly been killed by a Shu guy with wings.”

“Two of them,” said Wylan.

Inej frowned. “Two wings?”

“Two guys,” said Jesper.

“With wings?” Inej probed. “Like a bird?”

Nina dragged her toward the cluttered table, where a map of Ketterdam had been spread. “No, more like a moth, a deadly, mechanical moth. Are you hungry? We have chocolate biscuits.”

“Oh sure,” said Jesper. “She gets the cookie hoard.”

Nina planted Inej in a chair and plunked the tin down in front of her. “Eat,” she commanded. “There were two Shu with wings, and a man and a woman who were … not normal.”

“Nina’s power had no effect on them,” said Wylan.

“Hmm,” Nina said noncommittally, nibbling daintily at the edge of a biscuit. Inej had never seen Nina nibble daintily on anything. Her appetite clearly hadn’t returned, but Inej wondered if there was more to it.

Matthias joined them at the table. “The Shu woman we faced was stronger than me, Jesper, and Wylan put together.”

“You heard right,” said Jesper. “Stronger than Wylan.”

“I did my part,” objected Wylan.

“You most definitely did, merchling. What was that violet stuff?”

“Something new I’ve been working on. It’s based on a Ravkan invention called lumiya; the flames are almost impossible to extinguish, but I changed the formulation so that it burns a lot hotter.”

“We were lucky to have you there,” said Matthias with a small bow that left Wylan looking pleased and entirely flustered. “The creatures were nearly impervious to bullets.”

“Nearly,” Nina said grimly. “They had nets. They were looking to hunt and capture Grisha.”

Kaz rested his shoulders against the wall. “Were they using parem?”

She shook her head. “No. I don’t think they were Grisha. They didn’t display any powers, and they weren’t healing their wounds. It looked like they had some kind of metal plating beneath their skin.”

She spoke to Kuwei rapidly in Shu.

Kuwei groaned. “Kherguud.” They all looked at him blankly. He sighed and said, “When my father made parem, the government tests it on Fabrikators.”

Jesper cocked his head to one side. “Is it just me or is your Kerch getting better?”

“My Kerch is good. You all talk too fast.”

“Okay,” drawled Jesper. “Why did your dear Shu friends test parem on Fabrikators?” He was sprawled in his chair, hands resting on his revolvers, but Inej did not quite believe his relaxed pose.

“They have more Fabrikators in captivity,” said Kuwei.

“They’re the easiest to capture,” Matthias put in, ignoring Nina’s sour look. “Until recently, they received little combat training, and without parem their powers are poorly suited to battle.”

“Our leaders want to conduct more experiments,” Kuwei continued. “But they don’t know how many Grisha they can find—”

“Maybe if they hadn’t killed so many?” Nina suggested.

Kuwei nodded, missing or ignoring the sarcasm in Nina’s voice. “Yes. They have few Grisha, and using parem shortens a Grisha’s life. So they bring doctors to work with the Fabrikators already sick from parem. They plan to make a new kind of soldier, the Kherguud. I don’t know if they succeeded.”

“I think I can answer that question with a big fat yes,” said Jesper.

“Specially tailored soldiers,” Nina said thoughtfully. “Before the war, I heard they tried something similar in Ravka, reinforcing skeletons, tampering with bone density, metal implants. They experimented on First Army volunteers. Oh, stop grimacing, Matthias. Your Fjerdan masters probably would have gotten around to trying the exact same thing, given the time.”

“Fabrikators deal in solids,” said Jesper. “Metal, glass, textiles. This seems like Corporalki work.”

Still talking as if he isn’t one of them, Inej noted. They all knew Jesper was a Fabrikator; even Kuwei had discovered it in the chaos that followed their escape from the Ice Court. And yet, Jesper rarely acknowledged his power. She supposed it was his secret to tend as he wished.

“Tailors blur the line between Fabrikator and Corporalnik,” said Nina. “I had a teacher in Ravka, Genya Safin. She could have been either a Heartrender or a Fabrikator if she’d wanted to—instead she became a great Tailor. The work you’re describing is really just an advanced kind of tailoring.”

Inej could not quite fathom it. “But you’re telling us you saw a man with wings somehow grafted onto his back?”

“No, they were mechanical. Some kind of metal frame, and canvas, maybe? But it’s more sophisticated than just slapping a pair of wings between someone’s shoulder blades. You’d have to link the musculature, hollow out the bones to decrease body weight, then somehow compensate for the loss of bone marrow, maybe replace the skeleton entirely. The level of complexity—”

“Parem,” said Matthias, his pale blond brows furrowed. “A Fabrikator using parem could manage that kind of tailoring.”

Nina shoved back from the table. “Won’t the Merchant Council do anything about the Shu attack?” she asked Kaz. “Are they just allowed to waltz into Kerch and start blowing things up and kidnapping people?”

“I doubt the Council will act,” he said. “Unless the Shu who attacked you were wearing uniforms, the Shu Han government will probably deny any knowledge of the attack.”

“So they just get away with it?”

“Maybe not,” Kaz said. “I spent a little time gathering intelligence at the harbors today. Those two Shu warships? The Council of Tides dry-docked them.”

Jesper’s boots slid off the table and hit the floor with a thud. “What?”

“They pulled back the tide. All of it. Used the sea to carve a new island with both of those warships beached on it. You can see them lying on their sides, sails dragging in the mud, right there in the harbor.”

“A show of force,” said Matthias.

“On behalf of Grisha or the city?” Jesper asked.

Kaz shrugged. “Who knows? But it might make the Shu a little more careful about hunting on the Ketterdam streets.”

“Could the Council of Tides help us?” asked Wylan. “If they know about parem, they have to be worried about what might happen if the wrong people get their hands on it.”

“How would you find them?” Nina asked bitterly. “No one knows the Tides’ identities, no one ever sees them coming or going from those watchtowers.” Inej suddenly wondered if Nina had tried to garner help from the Tides when she’d first arrived in Ketterdam, sixteen years old, a Grisha separated from her country with no friends or knowledge of the city. “The Shu won’t stay cowed forever. They created those soldiers for a reason.”

“It’s smart when you think about it,” said Kaz. “The Shu were maximizing their resources. A Grisha addicted to parem can’t survive for long, so the Shu found another way to exploit their powers.”

Matthias shook his head. “Indestructible soldiers who outlive their creators.”

Jesper rubbed a hand over his mouth. “And who can go out and hunt more Grisha. I swear to the Saints one of them found us by our smell.”

“Is that even possible?” Inej asked, horrified.

“I’ve never heard of Grisha giving off a particular scent,” said Nina, “but I guess it’s possible. If the soldiers’ olfactory receptors were improved … Maybe it’s a scent ordinary people can’t detect.”

“I don’t think this was the first attack,” Jesper said. “Wylan, remember how terrified that Squaller in the rare books room was? And what about that merch ship Rotty told us about?”

Kaz nodded. “It was torn apart, a bunch of sailors were found dead. At the time, they thought the crew’s Squaller might have gone rogue, busted out of his indenture. But maybe he didn’t disappear. Maybe he was captured. He was one of old Councilman Hoede’s Grisha.”

“Emil Retvenko,” said Nina.

“That’s the one. You knew him?”

“I knew of him. Most of the Grisha in Ketterdam know about each other. We share information, try to keep an eye out for one another. The Shu must have spies here if they knew where to look for each of us. The other Grisha—” Nina stood up, then grabbed the back of her chair, as if the sudden movement had made her woozy.

Inej and Matthias were on their feet instantly.

“Are you all right?” Inej asked.

“Splendid,” Nina said with an unconvincing smile. “But if the other Grisha in Ketterdam are in danger—”

“You’re going to do what?” Jesper said, and Inej was surprised by the harsh edge to his voice. “You’re lucky to be alive after what happened today. Those Shu soldiers can smell us, Nina.” He turned on Kuwei. “Your father made that possible.”

“Hey,” said Wylan, “go easy.”

“Go easy? Like things weren’t bad enough for the Grisha before? What if they track us to Black Veil? There are three of us here.”

Kaz rapped his knuckles against the table. “Wylan’s right. Go easy. The city wasn’t safe before and it isn’t safe now. So let’s all get rich enough to relocate.”

Nina placed her hands on her hips. “Are we really talking about money?”

“We’re talking about the job and making Van Eck pay up.”

Inej looped her arm through Nina’s. “I want to know what we can do to help the Grisha who are still in Ketterdam.” She saw the mallet glint as it reached the top of its arc. “And I’d also like to know how we’re going to make Van Eck suffer.”

“There are bigger issues here,” said Matthias.

“Not for me,” Jesper said. “I have two days left to get right with my father.”

Inej wasn’t sure she’d heard correctly. “Your father?”

“Yup. Family reunion in Ketterdam,” said Jesper. “Everyone’s invited.”

Inej wasn’t fooled by Jesper’s airy tone. “The loan?”

His hands returned to his revolvers. “Yeah. So I’d really like to know just how we intend to settle this score.”

Kaz shifted his weight on his cane. “Have any of you wondered what I did with all the cash Pekka Rollins gave us?”

Inej’s gut clenched. “You went to Pekka Rollins for a loan?”

“I would never go into debt with Rollins. I sold him my shares in Fifth Harbor and the Crow Club.”

No. Kaz had built those places from nothing. They were testaments to what he’d done for the Dregs. “Kaz—”

“Where do you think the money went?” he repeated.

“Guns?” asked Jesper.

“Ships?” queried Inej.

“Bombs?” suggested Wylan.

“Political bribes?” offered Nina. They all looked at Matthias. “This is where you tell us how awful we are,” she whispered.

He shrugged. “They all seem like practical choices.”

“Sugar,” said Kaz.

Jesper nudged the sugar bowl down the table to him.

Kaz rolled his eyes. “Not for my coffee, you podge. I used the money to buy up sugar shares and placed them in private accounts for all of us—under aliases, of course.”

“I don’t like speculation,” said Matthias.

“Of course you don’t. You like things you can see. Like piles of snow and benevolent tree gods.”

“Oh, there it is!” said Inej, resting her head on Nina’s shoulder and beaming at Matthias. “I missed his glower.”

“Besides,” Kaz said, “it’s hardly speculation if you know the outcome.”

“You know something about the sugar crop?” Jesper asked.

“I know something about the supply.”

Wylan sat up straighter. “The silos,” he said. “The silos at Sweet Reef.”

“Very good, merchling.”

Matthias shook his head. “What’s Sweet Reef?”

“It’s an area just south of Sixth Harbor,” said Inej. She remembered the view of the vast silos towering over the warehouse district. They were the size of small mountains. “It’s where they keep molasses, raw cane, and the processing plants to refine sugar. We were right near there today. That wasn’t a coincidence, was it?”

“No,” said Kaz. “I wanted you to get a look at the terrain. Most sugar cane comes from the Southern Colonies and Novyi Zem, but there won’t be another crop until three months from now. This season’s crop has already been harvested, processed, refined, and stored in the Sweet Reef silos.”

“There are thirty silos,” said Wylan. “My father owns ten of them.”

Jesper whistled. “Van Eck controls one-third of the world’s sugar supply?”

“He owns the silos,” said Kaz, “but only a fraction of the sugar inside them. He maintains the silos at his own expense, supplies guards for them, and pays the Squallers who monitor the humidity inside the silos to make sure the sugar stays dry and separated. The merchants who own the sugar pay him a small percentage of every one of their sales. It adds up quickly.”

“Such enormous wealth under one man’s protection,” Matthias considered. “If anything were to happen to those silos, the price of sugar—”

“Would go off like a cheap pair of six-shooters,” Jesper said, popping to his feet and starting to pace.

“The price would climb and keep climbing,” said Kaz. “And as of a few days ago, we own shares in the companies that don’t store sugar with Van Eck. Right now, they’re worth about what we paid for them. But once we destroy the sugar in Van Eck’s silos—”

Jesper was bouncing on the balls of his feet. “Our shares will be worth five—maybe ten—times what they are now.”

“Try twenty.”

Jesper hooted. “Don’t mind if I do.”

“We could sell at a huge profit,” said Wylan. “We’d be rich overnight.”

Inej thought of a sleek schooner, weighted with heavy cannon. It could be hers. “Thirty million kruge rich?” she asked. The reward Van Eck owed them for the Ice Court job. One he’d never intended to pay.

The barest smile ghosted over Kaz’s lips. “Give or take a million.”

Wylan was gnawing on his thumbnail. “My father can weather a loss. The other merchants, the ones who own the sugar in his silos, will be hit worse.”

“True,” said Matthias. “And if we destroy the silos, it will be clear Van Eck was targeted.”

“We could try to make it look like an accident,” suggested Nina.

“It will,” said Kaz. “Initially. Thanks to the weevil. Tell them, Wylan.”

Wylan sat forward like a schoolboy eager to prove he had the answers. He drew a vial from his pocket. “This version works.”

“It’s a weevil?” Inej asked, examining it.

“A chemical weevil,” said Jesper. “But Wylan still hasn’t named it. My vote is for the Wyvil.”

“That’s terrible,” said Wylan.

“It’s brilliant.” Jesper winked. “Just like you.”

Wylan blushed daylily pink.

“I helped as well,” added Kuwei, looking sulky.

“He did help,” Wylan said.

“We’ll make him a plaque,” said Kaz. “Tell them how it works.”

Wylan cleared his throat. “I got the idea from cane blight—just a little bit of bacteria can ruin a whole crop. Once the weevil is dropped into the silo, it will keep burrowing down, using the refined sugar as fuel until the sugar is nothing but useless mush.”

“It reacts to sugar?” asked Jesper.

“Yes, any kind of sugar. Even trace amounts if there’s enough moisture present, so keep it away from sweat, blood, saliva.”

“Do not lick Wyvil. Does someone want to write that down?”

“Those silos are huge,” said Inej. “How much will we need?”

“One vial for each silo,” Wylan said.

Inej blinked at the small glass tube. “Truly?”

“Tiny and ferocious,” Jesper said. He winked again. “Just like you.”

Nina burst out laughing, and Inej couldn’t help returning Jesper’s grin. Her body ached and she would have liked to sleep for two days straight, but she felt some part of herself uncoiling, releasing the terror and anger of the last week.

“The weevil will make the destruction of the sugar look like an accident,” said Wylan.

“It will,” said Kaz, “until the other merchants learn that Van Eck has been buying up sugar that isn’t stored in his silos.”

Wylan’s eyes widened. “What?”

“I used half of the money for our shares. I used the rest to purchase shares on behalf of Van Eck—well, on behalf of a holding company created under Alys’ name. Couldn’t make it too obvious. The shares were purchased in cash, untraceable. But the certificates authenticating their purchase will be found stamped and sealed at his attorney’s office.”

“Cornelis Smeet,” Matthias said, in surprise. “Deception upon deception. You weren’t just trying to figure out where Alys Van Eck was being kept when you broke into his office.”

“You don’t win by running one game,” said Kaz. “Van Eck’s reputation will take a hit when the sugar is lost. But when the people who paid him to keep it safe find out he profited from their loss, they’ll look more closely at those silos.”

“And find the remnants of the weevil,” finished Wylan.

“Destruction of property, tampering with the markets,” Inej murmured. “It will be the end of him.” She thought of Van Eck gesturing to his lackey to take up the mallet. I don’t want it to be a clean break. Shatter the bone. “Could he go to prison?”

“He’ll be charged with violating a contract and attempting to interfere with the market,” said Kaz. “There is no greater crime according to Kerch law. The sentences are the same as for murder. He could hang.”

“Will he?” Wylan said softly. He used his finger to draw a line across the map of Ketterdam, all the way from Sweet Reef to the Barrel, then on to the Geldstraat, where his father lived. Jan Van Eck had tried to kill Wylan. He’d cast him off like refuse. But Inej wondered if Wylan was ready to doom his father to execution.

“I doubt he’ll swing,” said Kaz. “My guess is they’ll saddle him with a lesser charge. None of the Merchant Council will want to put one of their own on the gallows. As for whether or not he’ll actually ever see the inside of a jail cell?” He shrugged. “Depends on how good his lawyer is.”

“But he’ll be barred from trade,” said Wylan, his voice almost dazed. “His holdings will be seized to make good on the lost sugar.”

“It will be the end of the Van Eck empire,” Kaz said.

“What about Alys?” asked Wylan.

Again Kaz shrugged. “No one is going to believe that girl had anything to do with a financial scheme. Alys will sue for divorce and probably move back in with her parents. She’ll cry for a week, sing for two, and then get over it. Maybe she’ll marry a prince.”

“Or maybe a music teacher,” Inej said, remembering Bajan’s panic when he heard Alys had been abducted.

“There’s just one small problem,” said Jesper, “and by small, I mean ‘huge, glaring, let’s scrap this and go get a lager.’ The silos. I know we’re all about breaching the unbreachable, but how are we supposed to get inside?”

“Kaz can pick the locks,” said Wylan.

“No,” said Kaz, “I can’t.”

“I don’t think I’ve ever heard those words leave your lips,” said Nina. “Say it again, nice and slow.”

Kaz ignored her. “They’re quatrefoil locks. Four keys in four locks turned at the same time or they trigger security doors and an alarm. I can pick any lock, but I can’t pick four at once.”

“Then how do we get in?” Jesper asked.

“The silos also open at the top.”

“Those silos are nearly twenty stories high! Is Inej going to go up and down ten of them in one night?”

“Just one,” said Kaz.

“And then what?” said Nina, hands back on her hips and green eyes blazing.

Inej remembered the towering silos, the gaps between them.

“And then,” said Inej, “I’m going to walk a high wire from one silo to the next.”

Nina threw her hands in the air. “And all of it without a net, I suppose?”

“A Ghafa never performs with a net,” Inej said indignantly.

“Does a Ghafa frequently perform twenty stories above cobblestones after being held prisoner for a week?”

“There will be a net,” said Kaz. “It’s in place behind the silo guardhouse already, under a stack of sandbags.”

The silence in the tomb was sudden and complete. Inej couldn’t believe what she was hearing. “I don’t need a net.”

Kaz consulted his watch. “Didn’t ask. We have six hours to sleep and heal up. I’ll nab supplies from the Cirkus Zirkoa. They’re camped on the western outskirts of town. Inej, make a list of what you’ll need. We hit the silos in twenty-four hours.”

“Absolutely not,” said Nina. “Inej needs to rest.”

“That’s right,” Jesper agreed. “She looks thin enough to blow away in a stiff breeze.”

“I’m fine,” said Inej.

Jesper rolled his eyes. “You always say that.”

“Isn’t that how things are done around here?” asked Wylan. “We all tell Kaz we’re fine and then do something stupid?”

“Are we that predictable?” said Inej.

Wylan and Matthias said in unison, “Yes.”

“Do you want to beat Van Eck?” Kaz asked.

Nina blew out an exasperated breath. “Of course.”

Kaz’s eyes scanned the room, moving from face to face. “Do you? Do you want your money? The money we fought, and bled, and nearly drowned for? Or do you want Van Eck to be glad he picked a bunch of nobodies from the Barrel to scam? Because no one else is going to get him for us. No one else is going to care that he cheated us or that we risked our lives for nothing. No one else is going to make this right. So I’m asking, do you want to beat Van Eck?”

“Yes,” said Inej. She wanted some kind of justice.

“Soundly,” said Nina.

“Around the ears with Wylan’s flute,” said Jesper.

One by one, they nodded.

“The stakes have changed,” said Kaz. “Based on Van Eck’s little demonstration today, wanted posters with our faces on them are probably already going up all over Ketterdam, and I suspect he’ll be offering a handsome reward. He’s trading on his credibility, and the sooner we destroy it, the better. We’re going to take his money, his reputation, and his freedom all in one night. But that means we don’t stop. Angry as he is, tonight Van Eck is going to eat a fine dinner and fall off to a fitful sleep in his soft merch bed. Those stadwatch grunts will rest their weary heads until they get to the next shift, wondering if maybe they’ll earn a little overtime. But we don’t stop. The clock is ticking. We can rest when we’re rich. Agreed?”

Another round of nods.

“Nina, there are guards who walk the perimeter of the silos. You’ll be the distraction, a distressed Ravkan, new to the city, looking for work in the warehouse district. You need to keep them occupied long enough for the rest of us to get inside and for Inej to scale the first silo. Then—”

“On one condition,” said Nina, arms crossed.

“This is not a negotiation.”

“Everything is a negotiation with you, Brekker. You probably bartered your way out of the womb. If I’m going to do this, I want us to get the rest of the Grisha out of the city.”

“Forget it. I’m not running a charity for refugees.”

“Then I’m out.”

“Fine. You’re out. You’ll still get your share of the money for your work on the Ice Court job, but I don’t need you on this crew.”

“No,” said Inej quietly. “But you need me.”

Kaz rested his cane across his legs. “It seems everyone is forming alliances.”

Inej remembered the way the sun had caught the brown in his eyes only hours before. Now they were the color of coffee gone bitter in the brewing. But she was not going to back down.

“They’re called friendships, Kaz.”

His gaze shifted to Nina. “I don’t like being held hostage.”

“And I don’t like shoes that pinch at the toes, but we must all suffer. Think of it as a challenge for your monstrous brain.”

After a long pause, Kaz said, “How many people are we talking about?”

“There are less than thirty Grisha in the city that I know of, other than the Council of Tides.”

“And how would you like to corral them? Hand out pamphlets directing them to a giant raft?”

“There’s a tavern near the Ravkan embassy. We use it to leave messages and exchange information. I can get the word out from there. Then we just need a ship. Van Eck can’t watch all the harbors.”

Inej didn’t want to disagree, but it had to be said. “I think he can. Van Eck has the full power of the city government behind him. And you didn’t see his reaction when he discovered Kaz had dared to take Alys.”

“Please tell me he actually frothed at the mouth,” said Jesper.

“It was a close thing.”

Kaz limped to the tomb door, staring out into the darkness. “Van Eck won’t have made the choice to involve the city lightly. It’s a risk, and he wouldn’t take that risk if he didn’t intend to capitalize on it to the fullest. He’ll have every harbor and watchtower on the coast on full alert, with orders to question anyone trying to leave Ketterdam. He’ll just claim that he knows Wylan’s captors may plan to take him from Kerch.”

“Trying to get all of the Grisha out will be extremely dangerous,” said Matthias. “The last thing we need is for a group of them to fall into Van Eck’s hands when he may still have a store of parem.”

Jesper tapped his fingers on the grips of his revolvers. “We need a miracle. And possibly a bottle of whiskey. Helps lubricate the brainpan.”

“No,” said Kaz slowly. “We need a ship. A ship that couldn’t possibly be suspect, that Van Eck and the stadwatch would never have cause to stop. We need one of his ships.”

Nina wriggled to the edge of her chair. “Van Eck’s trading company must have plenty of ships heading to Ravka.”

Matthias folded his huge arms, considering. “Get the Grisha refugees out on one of Van Eck’s own vessels?”

“We’d need a forged manifest and papers of transit,” said Inej.

“Why do you think they kicked Specht out of the navy?” Kaz asked. “He was forging leave documents and supply orders.”

Wylan pulled on his lip. “But it’s not just a question of a few documents. Let’s say there are thirty Grisha refugees. A ship’s captain is going to want to know why thirty people—”

“Thirty-one,” Kuwei said.

“Are you actually following all of this?” said Jesper incredulously.

“A ship to Ravka,” said Kuwei. “I understand that very well.”

Kaz shrugged. “If we’re going to steal a boat, we might as well put you on it.”

“Thirty-one it is,” said Nina with a smile, though if the muscle twitching in Matthias’ jaw was any indication, he wasn’t nearly so thrilled.

“Okay,” said Wylan, smoothing a crease in the map. “But a ship’s captain is going to wonder why there are thirty-one people being added to his manifest.”

“Not if the captain thinks he’s in on a secret,” said Kaz. “Van Eck will write a passionately worded letter calling upon the captain to use the utmost discretion in transporting these valuable political refugees and asking him to keep them hidden from anyone susceptible to Shu bribes—including the stadwatch—at all costs. Van Eck will promise the captain a huge reward when he returns, just to make sure he doesn’t get any ideas about selling out the Grisha. We already have a sample of Van Eck’s handwriting. We just need his seal.”

“Where does he keep it?” Jesper asked Wylan.

“In his office. At least that’s where it used to be.”

“We’ll have to get in and out without him noticing,” said Inej. “And we’ll have to move quickly after that. As soon as Van Eck realizes the seal is missing, he’ll be able to guess what we’re up to.”

“We broke into the Ice Court,” said Kaz. “I think we can manage a mercher’s office.”

“Well, we did almost die breaking into the Ice Court,” said Inej.

“Several times, if memory serves,” noted Jesper.

“Inej and I lifted a DeKappel from Van Eck. We already know the layout of the house. We’ll be fine.”

Wylan’s finger was once more tracing the Geldstraat. “You didn’t have to get into my father’s safe.”

“Van Eck keeps the seal in a safe?” said Jesper with a laugh. “It’s almost like he wants us to take it. Kaz is better at making friends with combination locks than with people.”

“You’ve never seen a safe like this,” Wylan said. “He had it installed after the DeKappel was stolen. It has a seven-digit combination that he resets every day, and the locks are built with false tumblers to confuse safecrackers.”

Kaz shrugged. “Then we go around it. I’ll take expediency over finesse.”

Wylan shook his head. “The safe walls are made of a unique alloy reinforced with Grisha steel.”

“An explosion?” suggested Jesper.

Kaz raised a brow. “I suspect Van Eck will notice that.”

“A very small explosion?”

Nina snorted. “You just want to blow something up.”

“Actually…” said Wylan. He cocked his head to one side, as if he were listening to a distant song. “Come morning, there would be no hiding we’d been there, but if we can get the refugees out of the harbor before my father discovers the theft … I’m not exactly sure where I can get the materials, but it just might work.…”

“Inej,” Jesper whispered.

She leaned forward, peering at Wylan. “Is that scheming face?”

“Possibly.”

Wylan seemed to snap back to reality. “It is not. But … but I do think I have an idea.”

“We’re waiting, merchling,” Kaz said.

“The weevil is basically just a much more stable version of auric acid.”

“Yes,” said Jesper. “Of course. And that is?”

“A corrosive. It gives off a minor amount of heat once it starts to react, but it’s incredibly powerful and incredibly volatile. It can cut through Grisha steel and just about anything else other than balsa glass.”

“Glass?”

“The glass and the sap from the balsa neutralize the corrosion.”

“And where does one come by such a thing?”

“We can find one of the ingredients I need in an ironworks. They use the corrosive to strip oxidation off metals. The other might be tougher to come by. We’d need a quarry with a vein of auris or a similar halide compound.”

“The closest quarry is at Olendaal,” said Kaz.

“That could work. Once we have both compounds, we’ll have to be very careful with the transport,” Wylan continued. “Actually, we’ll have to be more than careful. After the reaction is completed, auric acid is basically harmless, but while it’s active … Well, it’s a good way to lose your hands.”

“So,” said Jesper, “if we get these ingredients, and manage to transport them separately, and activate this auric acid, and don’t lose a limb in the process?”

Wylan tugged at a lock of his hair. “We could burn through the safe door in a matter of minutes.”

“Without damaging the contents inside?” asked Nina.

“Hopefully.”

“Hopefully,” repeated Kaz. “I’ve worked with worse. We’ll need to find out which ships are departing for Ravka tomorrow night and get Specht started on the manifest and papers of transit. Nina, once we’ve got a vessel chosen, can your little band of refugees make it to the docks on their own or will they need their hands held for that too?”

“I’m not sure how well they know the city,” admitted Nina.

Kaz drummed his fingers over the head of his cane. “Wylan and I can tackle the safe. We can send Jesper to escort the Grisha and we can map a route so Matthias can get Kuwei to the docks. But that leaves only Nina to distract the guards and work the net for Inej at the silos. The net needs at least three people on it for it to be worth anything.”

Inej stretched, gently rolled her shoulders. It was good to be among these people again. She’d been gone for only a few days, and they were sitting in a damp mausoleum, but it still felt like a homecoming.

“I told you,” she said. “I don’t work with a net.”