Rotty pushed the long wooden pole against the sandy bottom of the canal. The barge drifted away from the dock. In the dark, he looked like any other bodyman ferrying his grim cargo through the canals. Only the sickboats could pass freely through the city and out of the harbor, collecting the dead to take to the Reaper’s Barge for burning.
Rotty would bring them up through the manufacturing district, where the Grisha refugees had fled after the auction, after discarding the blue robes they’d worn to pretend to be the Council of Tides. Kaz had known there was no way to transport that many Grisha without attracting notice. So they’d taken the secret passage from the embassy to the tavern, and then paraded down the street in billowing blue robes, faces shrouded in mist, declaring their power instead of attempting to hide it. Jesper supposed there was a lesson there if he wanted to take it. There were only four real Tidemakers among them, but it had been enough. Of course, there had been the chance the real Council of Tides would show up at the auction, but based on their record, Kaz had thought it was worth the risk.
The Grisha and Sturmhond would be waiting to board the boat not far from Sweet Reef. Once they were all aboard, Rotty would pole them out past the harbor and then send up a flare where Sturmhond’s ship would come to meet them. It was the only way to get a group of refugee Grisha, a farmer who’d helped con the entire Merchant Council, and the body of a boy who had—until a few hours ago—been the most wanted hostage in the world, out of the city.
“You’ll have to be still,” Inej murmured.
“Still as the grave,” Nina replied.
The barge slid into the canal, and she lifted her hand in farewell, her palm like a white star, bright against the dark. They stood by the water’s edge long after it had faded.
At some point, Jesper realized Kaz was gone.
“Not one for goodbyes, is he?” he muttered.
“He doesn’t say goodbye,” Inej said. She kept her eyes on the lights of the canal. Somewhere in the garden, a night bird began to sing. “He just lets go.”
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.”