meat and send it to the best schools. I nurture my grudges, Rollins.”
“I’m glad you’ve kept your sense of humor, lad. Once you’ve served your term in stir—assuming Van Eck lets you live—I might just let you come work for me. Shame to see a talent like yours go to waste.”
“I’d rather be cooked slow on a spit with Van Eck turning the handle.”
Rollins’ smile was magnanimous. “I imagine that can be arranged too. I’m nothing if not accommodating.” Just keep talking , Kaz urged silently, his hand slipping inside Wylan’s satchel.
“What makes you think Van Eck will honor his agreement with you any more than he did with us?”
“Because I have the sense to get cash up front. And my demands are decidedly more moderate. A few million kruge to rid the Barrel of a nuisance I’d like to see gone anyway? Most reasonable.” Rollins hooked his thumbs into his waistcoat. “Fact is, Van Eck and I understand each other. I’m expanding, growing my territory, thinking bigger. The Kaelish Prince is the finest establishment East Stave has ever seen, and it’s only the beginning. Van Eck and I are builders. We want to create something that outlasts us. You’ll grow into it, boy. Now hand over that seal and come quietly, why don’t you?”
Kaz pulled the seal from his pocket, held it up, letting it catch the lamplight, drawing Pekka’s gaze. He hesitated.
“Come now, Brekker. You’re tough, I confess, but I’ve got you cornered and outnumbered. You can’t make the drop from that window, and Van Eck has stadwatch lining the street below. You’re done for, toasted, swinging in the wind, so don’t do anything foolish.”
But if you couldn’t open a door, you just had to make a new one. Rollins was easy to get talking; in fact, Kaz doubted he could stop him if he wanted to. Then it was just a question of keeping Rollins’ eyes on the shiny golden seal in Kaz’s right hand while he opened the jar of auric acid with the left.
“Get ready,” he murmured.
“Kaz—” Wylan protested.
Kaz tossed the seal to Rollins and in the same motion splashed the remaining acid onto the floor. The room filled with heat and the carpet hissed as a plume of acrid smoke rose from it.
“Stop them!” Rollins shouted.
“See you on the other side,” said Kaz. He grabbed his cane and smashed it into the boards beneath their feet. The floor gave way with a groan.
They crashed through to the first floor in a cloud of plaster and dust, right onto a dinner table that collapsed beneath their weight.
Candlesticks and dishes went rolling. Kaz sprang to his feet, cane in his hand, gravy dripping from his coat, then hauled Wylan up beside him.
He had a brief moment to register the startled expressions of the merchers around the table, their mouths wide with shock, napkins still in their laps. Then Van Eck was screaming, “Seize them!” and Kaz and Wylan were leaping over a fallen ham and sprinting down the black-and-white-tiled hall.
Two liveried guards stepped in front of the glass-paneled doors that opened onto the back garden, lifting their rifles.
Kaz put on a spurt of speed and dropped into a slide. He braced his cane horizontally across his chest and shot between the guards, letting the cane bash into their shins, knocking them from their feet.
Wylan trailed after him, tumbling down the stairs into the garden. Then they were at the boathouse, over the railing, and into the gondel Rotty had kept waiting in the canal.
A bullet pinged into the side of the boat as gunfire peppered the water around them. He and Rotty seized their oars.
“Drop heavy,” Kaz shouted, and Wylan let loose with every rocket, flash bomb, and bit of demo he’d been able to fit into the boat. The sky above the Van Eck house exploded in an array of light, smoke, and sound as the guards dove for cover.
Kaz put his arms to work, feeling the boat slide into the current as they passed into the glittering traffic of the Geldcanal.
“In and out without him ever knowing?” said Rotty.
“I was half right,” growled Kaz.
“We have to warn the others,” Wylan gasped. “Rollins said—”
“Pekka Rollins was there?” Rotty asked, and Kaz heard the fear in his voice. A canal rat would take on a thousand thugs and thieves, merchers and mercenaries, but not Pekka Rollins.
Kaz tipped one of his oars, steering the boat starboard and barely missing a browboat full of tourists.
“We have to go