command armies. “Mister Brekker,” he said. “Kaz, if I may? I am in a vulnerable position. I am a king ruling a country with an empty treasury, facing enemies on all sides. There are also forces within my country that might seize any absence as an opportunity to make their own bid for power.”
“So you’re saying you’d make an excellent hostage.”
“I suspect that the ransom for me would be considerably less than the price Kuwei has on his head. Really, it’s a bit of a blow to my self-esteem.”
“You don’t seem to be suffering,” said Kaz.
“Sturmhond was a creation of my youth, and his reputation still serves me well. I cannot bid on Kuwei Yul-Bo as the king of Ravka. I hope your plan will play out the way you think it will. But if it doesn’t, the loss of such a prize would be seen as a humiliating blunder diplomatically and strategically. I enter that auction as Sturmhond or as no one at all. If that is a problem—”
Kaz settled his hands on his cane. “As long as you don’t try to con me, you can enter as the Fairy Queen of Istamere.”
“It’s certainly nice to have my options open.” He looked back out at the city. “Can this possibly work, Mister Brekker? Or am I risking the fate of Ravka and the world’s Grisha on the honor and abilities of a fast-talking urchin?”
“More than a bit of both,” said Kaz. “You’re risking a country. We’re risking our lives. Seems a fair trade.”
The king of Ravka offered his hand. “The deal is the deal?”
“The deal is the deal.” They shook.
“If only treaties could be signed so quickly,” he said, his easy privateer’s mien sliding back in place like a mask purchased on West Stave. “I’m going to have a drink and a bath. One can take only so much mud and squalor. As the rebel said to the prince, it’s bad for the constitution.” He flicked an invisible speck of dust from his lapel and sauntered out of the solarium.
Now Kaz smoothed his hair and pulled on his jacket. It was hard to believe a lowly canal rat had struck a deal with a king. He thought of that broken nose that gave the privateer the look of someone who had been through a fair share of fistfights. For all Kaz knew, he had, but he must have been tailored to disguise his features. Hard to lie low when your face was on the money. In the end, royalty or not, Sturmhond was really just a very grand con man, and all that mattered was that he and his people did their part.
Kaz checked his watch—past midnight, later than he would have liked—and went to find Nina. He was surprised to see Jesper waiting in the hall.
“What is it?” Kaz said, his mind instantly trying to calculate all the things that might have gone wrong as he slept.
“Nothing,” Jesper said. “Or no more than usual.”
“Then what do you want?”
Jesper swallowed and said, “Matthias gave you the remaining parem , didn’t he?”
“So?”
“If anything happens … the Shu will be at the auction, maybe the Kherguud. There’s too much riding on this job. I can’t let my father down again. I need the parem , as a security measure.”
Kaz studied him for a long moment. “No.”
“Why the hell not?”
A reasonable question. Giving Jesper the parem would have been the smart move, the practical move.
“Your father cares more about you than some plot of land.”
“But—”
“I’m not going to let you make yourself a martyr, Jes. If one of us goes down, we all go down.”
“This is my choice to make.”
“And yet I seem to be the one making it.” Kaz headed toward the sitting room. He didn’t intend to argue with Jesper, especially when he wasn’t entirely sure why he was saying no in the first place.
“Who’s Jordie?”
Kaz paused. He’d known the question would come, and yet it was still hard to hear his brother’s name spoken. “Someone I trusted.” He looked over his shoulder and met Jesper’s gray eyes. “Someone I didn’t want to lose.”
Kaz found Nina and Matthias asleep on the couch in the purple sitting room. Why the two biggest people in their crew had chosen the smallest space to sleep on, he had no idea. He gave Nina a nudge with his cane. Without opening her eyes, she tried to bat it away.
“Rise and shine.”
“Go ’way,” she said, burying her head in Matthias’ chest.
“Let’s go, Zenik. The dead