ready to put on a mask just so they can have what they want with no one the wiser for it. We can endure all kinds of pain. It’s shame that eats men whole.”
“Wise words,” said a voice from the corner.
Kaz and Wylan whirled. The lamps flared brightly, flooding the room with light, and a figure emerged from a niche in the opposite wall that hadn’t been there a moment before: Pekka Rollins, a smug grin on his ruddy face, bracketed by a cluster of Dime Lions all carrying pistols, saps, and axe handles.
“Kaz Brekker,” Rollins mocked. “Philosopher crook.”
“ S tay down!” Matthias shouted at Kuwei. The Shu boy flattened himself to the floor. A second rattle of gunfire shook the air, shattering another of the stained-glass portholes.
“Either they’re interested in wasting a lot of bullets or those are warning shots,” said Jesper. In a low crouch, Matthias edged to the other side of the tomb and peered through a thin crack in the stone.
“We’re surrounded,” he said. The people standing between Black Veil’s graves were a far cry from the stadwatch officers he’d expected to see. In the flickering light of lanterns and torches, Matthias glimpsed plaid and paisley, striped vests, and checkered coats. The uniform of the Barrel. They carried equally motley weapons—guns, knives as long as a man’s forearm, wooden bats.
“I can’t make out their tattoos,” said Jesper. “But I’m pretty sure that’s Doughty up front.”
Doughty. Matthias searched his memory, then remembered the man who had escorted them to Pekka Rollins when Kaz had sought a loan. “Dime Lions.”
“A lot of them.”
“What do they want?” said Kuwei tremulously.
Matthias could hear people laughing, shouting, and beneath it all, the low, fevered buzz that came when soldiers knew they had the advantage, when they scented the promise of bloodshed in the air.
A cheer arose from the crowd as a Dime Lion sprinted forward and hurled something toward the tomb. It soared through one of the broken windows and hit the floor with a clang. Green gas burst from its sides.
Matthias yanked a horse blanket from the floor and threw it over the canister. He shoved it back through the porthole as another stutter of gunfire split the air. His eyes burned, tears streaming down his cheeks.
Now the buzz was cresting. The Dime Lions surged forward.
Jesper squeezed off a shot and one of the advancing crew fell, his torch extinguished on the damp ground. Again and again Jesper fired, his aim unerring as Dime Lions toppled. Their ranks broke as they scattered for cover.
“Keep lining up, boys,” Jesper said grimly.
“Come on out!” bellowed Doughty from behind a grave. “You can’t shoot us all.”
“I can’t hear you,” shouted Jesper. “Come closer.”
“We smashed your boats. You got no way off this island except us. So come quiet or we’ll bring just your heads back to the Barrel.”
“Watch out!” said Matthias. Doughty had been distracting them. Another canister crashed through a window, then another. “The catacomb!” Matthias roared, and they raced for the opposite end of the tomb, cramming themselves into the passage and sealing the stone door behind them. Jesper tore off his shirt and shoved it into the gap between the door and the floor.
The dark was almost complete. For a moment, there was only the sound of the three of them coughing and gasping, trying to dislodge the gas from their lungs. Then Jesper shook out a bonelight and their faces were lit by an eerie green glow.
“How the hell did they find us?” he asked.
“It doesn’t matter,” said Matthias. There was no time to think about how Black Veil had been compromised. All he knew was that if Pekka Rollins had sent his gang after them, Nina might be in danger too. “What are our assets?”
“Wylan left us with a bunch of those violet bombs in case we ran into trouble with the Shu soldiers, and I’ve got a couple of flash bombs too. Kuwei?”
“I have nothing,” he said.
“You have that damn travel pack,” said Jesper. “There’s nothing useful in there?”
Kuwei clutched the bag to his chest. “My notebooks,” he said with a sniff.
“What about the leavings from Wylan’s work?” asked Matthias. No one had bothered to clear anything away.
“It’s just some of the stuff he used to make the fireworks for Goedmedbridge,” said Jesper.
A flurry of shouts came from outside.
“They’re going to blow the door to the tomb,” said Matthias. It was what he would have done if he’d wanted prisoners instead of casualties, though he felt certain