be the one to reveal your scheme with the Ravkans, but it seems the Tides will have the honor.” His mouth curved in a satisfied smile. “Wylan took quite a beating before he gave you and your friends up,” he said, moving toward the podium. “I never knew the boy had so much spine.”
“A false fund was created to swindle honest merchants out of their money,” continued the Tidemaker. “That money was funneled to one of the bidders.”
“Of course!” said Van Eck in mock surprise. “The Ravkans! We all knew they didn’t have the funds to bid competitively in such an auction!” Matthias could hear how greatly he was enjoying himself. “We’re aware of how much money the Ravkan crown has borrowed from us over the last two years. They can barely make their interest payments. They don’t have one hundred and twenty million kruge ready to bid in an open auction. Brekker must be working with them.”
All the bidders were out of their seats now. The Fjerdans were shouting for justice. The Shu had begun stamping their feet and banging on the backs of the pews. The Ravkans stood in the middle of the maelstrom, surrounded by enemies on every side. Sturmhond, Genya, and Zoya were at the center of it all, chins held high.
“Do something,” Matthias growled at Kaz. “This is about to turn ugly.”
Kaz’s face was as impassive as always. “Do you think so?”
“Damn it, Brekker. You—”
The Tides raised their arms and the church shook with another resonant boom . Water sloshed in through the windows of the upper balcony. The crowd quieted, but the silence was hardly complete. It seethed with angry murmurs.
Radmakker banged his gavel, attempting to reassert some authority. “If you have evidence against the Ravkans—”
The Tidemaker spoke from behind her mask of mist. “The Ravkans have nothing to do with this. The money was transferred to the Shu.”
Van Eck blinked, then changed tack. “Well then, Brekker struck some kind of deal with the Shu.”
Instantly, the Shu were shouting their denials, but the Tidemaker’s voice was louder.
“The false fund was created by Johannus Rietveld and Jan Van Eck.”
Van Eck’s face went white. “No, that’s not right.”
“Rietveld is a farmer,” stammered Karl Dryden. “I met him myself.”
The Tidemaker turned on Dryden. “Both you and Jan Van Eck were seen meeting with Rietveld in the lobby of the Geldrenner Hotel.”
“Yes, but it was for a fund, a jurda consortium, an honest business venture.”
“Radmakker,” said Van Eck. “You were there. You met with Rietveld.”
Radmakker’s nostrils flared. “I know nothing of this Mister Rietveld.”
“But I saw you. We both saw you at the Geldrenner—”
“I was there for a presentation on Zemeni oil futures. It was most peculiar, but what of it?”
“No,” said Van Eck, shaking his head. “If Rietveld is involved, Brekker is behind it. He must have hired Rietveld to swindle the Council.”
“Every one of us put money into that fund at your encouragement,” said one of the other councilmen. “Are you saying it’s all gone?”
“We knew nothing of this!” countered the Shu ambassador.
“This is Brekker’s doing,” insisted Van Eck. His smug demeanor was gone, but his composure remained intact. “The boy will stop at nothing to humiliate me and the honest men of this city. He kidnapped my wife, my son.” He gestured to Kaz. “Did I imagine you standing on Goedmedbridge in West Stave with Alys?”
“Of course not. I retrieved her from the market square just as you asked,” Kaz lied with a smoothness even Matthias found convincing. “She said she was blindfolded and never saw the people who took her.”
“Nonsense!” said Van Eck dismissively. “Alys!” he shouted up to the western balcony where Alys was seated, hands folded over her high, pregnant belly. “Tell them!”
Alys shook her head, her eyes wide and baffled. She whispered something to her maid, who called down, “Her captors wore masks and she was blindfolded until she reached the square.”
Van Eck released a huff of frustration. “Well, my guards certainly saw him with Alys.”
“Men in your employ?” said Radmakker skeptically.
“Brekker was the one who set up the meeting at the bridge!” said Van Eck. “He left a note, at the lake house.”
“Ah,” said Radmakker in relief. “Can you produce it?”
“Yes! But … it wasn’t signed.”
“Then how do you know it was Kaz Brekker who sent the note?”
“He left a tie pin—”
“His tie pin?”
“No, my tie pin, but—”
“So you have no proof at all that Kaz Brekker kidnapped your wife.” Radmakker’s patience was at an end. “Is the business with