meeting with his father, but a friendly exchange of pleasantries wasn’t it.
Wylan cleared his throat. “Are you hungry, Mister Fahey?”
“Starving,” Jesper’s father replied gratefully.
Wylan gave Jesper a poke with his elbow. “Maybe we could take your father to lunch?”
“Lunch,” Jesper said, repeating the word as if he’d just learned it. “Yes, lunch. Who doesn’t like lunch?” Lunch felt like a miracle. They’d eat. They’d talk. Maybe they’d drink. Please let them drink.
“But Jesper, what has been happening? I received a notice from the Gemensbank. The loan is coming due, and you’d given me to believe it was temporary. And your studies—”
“Da,” Jesper began. “I … the thing is—”
A shot rang out against the walls of the courtyard. Jesper shoved his father behind him as a bullet pinged off the stones at their feet, sending up a cloud of dust. Suddenly, gunfire was echoing across the courtyard. The reverberation made it hard to tell where the shots were coming from.
“What in the name of all that is holy—”
Jesper yanked on his father’s sleeve, pulling him toward the hooded stone shelter of a doorway. He looked to his left, prepared to grab hold of Wylan, but the merchling was already in motion, keeping pace beside Jesper in what passed for a reasonable crouch. Nothing like being shot at a few times to make you a fast learner , Jesper thought as they reached the protective curve of the overhang. He craned his neck to try to see up to the roofline, then flinched back as more shots rang out. Another smattering of gunfire rattled from somewhere above and to the left of them, and Jesper could only hope that meant Matthias and Kaz were returning fire.
“Saints!” his father gasped. “This city is worse than the guidebooks said!”
“Da, it isn’t the city,” Jesper said, pulling the pistol from his coat. “They’re after me. Or after us. Hard to say.”
“Who’s after you?”
Jesper exchanged a glance with Wylan. Jan Van Eck? A rival gang looking to settle a score? Pekka Rollins or someone else Jesper had borrowed money from? “There’s a long list of potential suitors. We need to get out of here before they introduce themselves more personally.”
“Brigands?”
Jesper knew there was a good chance he was about to be riddled with holes, so he tried to restrain his grin. “Something like that.”
He peered around the edge of the door, peeled off two shots, then ducked back when another spate of gunfire exploded.
“Wylan, tell me you’re packing more than pens, ink, and weevil makings.”
“I’ve got two flash bombs and something new I rigged up with a little more, um, wallop.”
“Bombs?” Jesper’s father asked, blinking as if to wake himself from a bad dream.
Jesper shrugged helplessly. “Think of them as science experiments?”
“What kind of numbers are we up against?” asked Wylan.
“Look at you, asking all the right questions. Hard to tell. They’re somewhere on the roof, and the only way out is back through the archway. That’s a lot of courtyard to cross with them firing from high ground. Even if we make it, I’m guessing they’re going to have plenty more thunder waiting for us outside the Boeksplein unless Kaz and Matthias can somehow clear a path.”
“I know another way out,” said Wylan. “But the entrance is on the other side of the courtyard.” He pointed to a door beneath an arch carved with some kind of horned monster gnawing on a pencil.
“The reading room?” Jesper gauged the distance. “All right. On three, you make a break. I’ll cover you. Get my father inside.”
“Jesper—”
“Da, I swear I’ll explain everything, but right now all you need to know is that we’re in a bad situation, and bad situations happen to be my area of expertise.” And it was true. Jesper could feel himself coming alive, the worry that had been dogging his steps since he’d gotten news of his father’s arrival in Ketterdam falling away. He felt free, dangerous, like lightning rolling over the prairie. “Trust me, Da.”
“All right, boy. All right.”
Jesper was pretty sure he could hear an unspoken for now . He saw Wylan brace himself. The merchling was still so new to all this. Hopefully Jesper wouldn’t get everyone killed.
“One, two …” He started firing on three . Leaping into the courtyard, he rolled for cover behind the fountain. He’d gone in blind, but he picked out the shapes on the roof quickly, aiming by instinct, sensing movement and firing before he could think his way clear of a good shot. He didn’t