K az propped his bad leg on a low stool and listened as Anika gave her report on the earnings at the Crow Club and the status of tourist traffic on East Stave. In the three weeks since Kuwei’s auction and the plague panic, Kaz had taken over Per Haskell’s office on the ground floor of the Slat. He still slept on the top floor, but it was easier to do business from Haskell’s lair. He didn’t miss the extra trips up and down the stairs, and his old office felt empty now. Whenever he sat down to try to get some work done, he’d find his eyes straying to the window ledge.
The city still hadn’t returned to normal, but that had created some interesting opportunities. Prices on the Staves had dropped as people prepared for a long plague outbreak, and Kaz was quick to take advantage. He bought the building next to the Crow Club so that they could expand, and he even managed to acquire a small property on the Lid. When the panic was over and tourism resumed, Kaz was looking forward to fleecing a far higher class of pigeon. He’d also bought out Per Haskell’s shares in the Crow Club for a reasonable price. He could have had them for nothing, given the trouble in the Barrel, but he didn’t want anyone feeling too sorry for the old man.
When Pekka Rollins returned to the city, Kaz would find a way to cut him out of the business. The last thing he wanted was for the proceeds of his hard work to go into Rollins’ coffers.
Once Anika finished her recital, Pim gave the details he’d gathered on Van Eck’s trial. The mysterious Johannus Rietveld had not been found, but once Van Eck’s accounts had been laid bare, it had quickly become
clear he’d been using the information he’d learned on the Merchant Council to buy up jurda farms. Beyond swindling his friends, tampering with an auction, and kidnapping his own son, there were even suggestions that he’d hired a team to break into a Fjerdan government building and possibly sabotage his own sugar silos. Van Eck was not out on bail. In fact, it didn’t look like he’d be out of jail anytime soon. Though his son had provided a small fund for his legal representation, it could be described as moderate at best.
Wylan had chosen to use a portion of his newfound wealth to restore his home. He’d given Jesper a small allowance to speculate in the markets, and he’d brought his mother home as well. People in the Geldstraat were shocked to see Marya Hendriks sitting in the park with her son or being rowed down the canal by one of their servants. Sometimes they could be glimpsed from the water, standing before their easels in the Van Eck garden.
Alys had stayed with them for a time, but eventually she and her terrier had chosen to escape the city and its gossip. She would finish her confinement in the Hendriks lake house, and was said to be making dubious progress in her singing lessons. Kaz was just glad he didn’t live next door.
“That’s good work,” Kaz said when Pim had finished. He hadn’t thought Pim had much talent for gathering intelligence.
“Roeder put together the report,” Pim said. “Think he’s gunning for a place as your new spider.”
“I don’t need a new spider,” said Kaz.
Pim shrugged. “Wraith’s been scarce. People talk.”
Kaz dismissed Anika and Pim and sat for a long moment in the quiet office. He’d barely slept in the past few weeks. He’d been waiting nearly half his life for this moment to become a reality, and he was afraid that if he let himself sleep, it might all vanish. Pekka Rollins had fled the city and hadn’t returned. Word was he’d holed up with his son in a country house surrounded by armed men at all times. Between the quarantines at the Emerald Palace, the Kaelish Prince, and the Sweet Shop, and the fact that he wasn’t around to put things to rights, Pekka Rollins’ businesses were on the brink of collapse. There was even talk of mutiny within the Dime Lions. Their boss was gone, and the deal he’d made with Van Eck had made them look no better than a rich man’s henchmen. They might as well be stadwatch .
Brick by brick. Eventually, Rollins would dig himself out of the rubble. Kaz would have to be ready.
A knock sounded at the door. The one problem with being on the ground floor was that people were a lot more likely to bother you.
“Letter came,” Anika said, and tossed it on his desk. “Looks like you’re keeping fast company, Brekker,” she said with a sly smile.
Kaz let his glance at the door do the talking. He wasn’t interested in watching Anika bat her yellow lashes.
“Right,” she said, and vanished, closing the door behind her.
Kaz held the letter up to the light. The seal was pale blue wax, marked with a golden double eagle. He slit open the envelope, read the letter’s contents, and burned both. Then he wrote a note of his own and sealed it in black wax.
Kaz knew Inej had been staying at Wylan’s house. Occasionally, he’d find a scrawled note on his desk—some bit of information about Pekka or the doings at the Stadhall—and he’d know she’d been here in his office. He slipped on his coat, took up his hat and cane, and tucked the paper into his pocket. He could have sent a messenger, but he wanted to deliver this note himself.
Kaz strode past Anika and Pim on the way out of the Slat. “I’ll be back in an hour,” he said, “and I better not still see you podges wasting your time here.”
“Hardly anyone at the club,” said Pim. “Tourists are too scared of the plague.”
“Go to the rooming houses where all the frightened pigeons are waiting out the panic. Show them you’re in the pink of health. Make sure they know you just had a fine time playing Three Man Bramble at the Crow Club. If that doesn’t work, get your asses to the harbors and drum up some pigeons from the workers on the boats.”
“I just came off a shift,” protested Pim.
Kaz settled his hat on his head and ran a thumb over the brim. “Didn’t ask.”
He cut east through the city. He was tempted to take a detour, just to see for himself how things were proceeding on West Stave. Between the Shu attack and the plague outbreak, the pleasure houses were practically deserted. Several streets had been barricaded to enforce the quarantine surrounding the Sweet Shop and the Menagerie. Rumor had it Heleen
Van Houden wasn’t going to make her rent that month. A pity.
There were no browboats operating, so he had to make the journey up to the financial district on foot. As he wended his way along a small, deserted canal, he saw a thick mist rising off the water. Only a few steps later, it was so dense he could barely see. The mist clung to his coat, wet and heavy, thoroughly out of place on a warm spring day. Kaz paused on the low bridge that spanned the canal, waiting, cane at the ready. A moment later, three hooded figures emerged to his left. Three more appeared to his right, their blue cloaks moving sinuously through the air, though there was no breeze. That much Kaz had gotten right, but their masks weren’t made of mist. Instead, the real Council of Tides—or a very convincing set of pretenders—wore something that gave the impression of looking into a starry night sky. Nice effect.
“Kaz Brekker,” said the lead Tidemaker. “Where is Kuwei Yul-Bo?” “Dead and gone. Burnt to ashes on the Reaper’s Barge.”
“Where is the real Kuwei Yul-Bo?”
Kaz shrugged. “A church full of people saw him get shot. A medik pronounced him dead. Beyond that, I can’t help you.”
“You do not want the Council of Tides as an enemy, young man. None of your shipments will ever leave port again. We will flood Fifth Harbor.”
“By all means, do. I don’t own shares in Fifth Harbor anymore. You want to stop my shipments, you’ll have to stop every boat coming in and out of the harbor. I’m not a merch. I don’t charter ships and register trade manifests. I’m a thief and a smuggler. Try to catch hold of me and you’ll find you’re trying to hold air.”
“Do you know how easy it is to drown?” asked the Tidemaker. He lifted a hand. “It can happen anywhere.”
Suddenly Kaz felt his lungs filling with water. He coughed, spat seawater, and bent double, gasping.
“Tell us what we want to know,” said the Tidemaker.
Kaz drew a stuttering breath. “I don’t know where Kuwei Yul-Bo is.
You can drown me where I stand and nothing will change that.”
“Then maybe we’ll find your friends and drown them in their beds.”
Kaz coughed and spat again. “And maybe you’ll find the obelisk towers under plague quarantine.” The Tides shifted uneasily, the mists moving with them. “I made those sirens sound. I created this plague, and I control it.”
“A bluff,” said the Tidemaker, his sleeve gliding through the mist. “Try me. I’ll spread sickness around every one of your towers. They’ll
become epicenters of disease. You think the Merchant Council won’t lock you all down? Demand you finally register your identities? They’d probably be happy for the excuse.”
“They wouldn’t dare. This country would sink were it not for us.” “They won’t have a choice. The public will clamor for action. They’ll
burn the towers from the ground up.” “Monstrous boy.”
“Ketterdam is made of monsters. I just happen to have the longest teeth.”
“The secret of jurda parem can never be revealed to the world. No Grisha would ever be safe again. Not here. Not anywhere.”
“Then it’s lucky for you it died with that poor Shu kid.”
“We won’t forget this, Kaz Brekker. One day you’ll regret your insolence.”
“Tell you what,” said Kaz. “When that day comes, mark it on your calendars. I can think of a lot of people who’ll want to throw a party.”
The figures seemed to blur, and when the mists finally thinned, Kaz saw no trace of the Tides.
He shook his head and set off down the canal. That was the wonderful thing about Ketterdam. It never let you get bored. No doubt the Tides would want something from him in the future, and he’d be obliged to give it to them.
But for now, he had unfinished business.
