people who paid him to keep it safe find out he profited from their loss, they’ll look more closely at those silos.”
“And find the remnants of the weevil,” finished Wylan.
“Destruction of property, tampering with the markets,” Inej murmured. “It will be the end of him.” She thought of Van Eck gesturing to his lackey to take up the mallet. I don’t want it to be a clean break. Shatter the bone. “Could he go to prison?”
“He’ll be charged with violating a contract and attempting to interfere with the market,” said Kaz. “There is no greater crime according to Kerch law. The sentences are the same as for murder. He could hang.”
“Will he?” Wylan said softly. He used his finger to draw a line across the map of Ketterdam, all the way from Sweet Reef to the Barrel, then on to the Geldstraat, where his father lived. Jan Van Eck had tried to kill Wylan. He’d cast him off like refuse. But Inej wondered if Wylan was ready to doom his father to execution.
“I doubt he’ll swing,” said Kaz. “My guess is they’ll saddle him with a lesser charge. None of the Merchant Council will want to put one of their own on the gallows. As for whether or not he’ll actually ever see the inside of a jail cell?” He shrugged. “Depends on how good his lawyer is.”
“But he’ll be barred from trade,” said Wylan, his voice almost dazed. “His holdings will be seized to make good on the lost sugar.”
“It will be the end of the Van Eck empire,” Kaz said.
“What about Alys?” asked Wylan.
Again Kaz shrugged. “No one is going to believe that girl had anything to do with a financial scheme. Alys will sue for divorce and probably move back in with her parents. She’ll cry for a week, sing for two, and then get over it. Maybe she’ll marry a prince.”
“Or maybe a music teacher,” Inej said, remembering Bajan’s panic when he heard Alys had been abducted.
“There’s just one small problem,” said Jesper, “and by small , I mean ‘huge, glaring, let’s scrap this and go get a lager.’ The silos. I know we’re all about breaching the unbreachable, but how are we supposed to get inside?”
“Kaz can pick the locks,” said Wylan.
“No,” said Kaz, “I can’t.”
“I don’t think I’ve ever heard those words leave your lips,” said Nina. “Say it again, nice and slow.”
Kaz ignored her. “They’re quatrefoil locks. Four keys in four locks turned at the same time or they trigger security doors and an alarm. I can pick any lock, but I can’t pick four at once.”
“Then how do we get in?” Jesper asked.
“The silos also open at the top.”
“Those silos are nearly twenty stories high! Is Inej going to go up and down ten of them in one night?”
“Just one,” said Kaz.
“And then what?” said Nina, hands back on her hips and green eyes blazing.
Inej remembered the towering silos, the gaps between them.
“And then,” said Inej, “I’m going to walk a high wire from one silo to the next.”
Nina threw her hands in the air. “And all of it without a net, I suppose?”
“A Ghafa never performs with a net,” Inej said indignantly.
“Does a Ghafa frequently perform twenty stories above cobblestones after being held prisoner for a week?”
“There will be a net,” said Kaz. “It’s in place behind the silo guardhouse already, under a stack of sandbags.”
The silence in the tomb was sudden and complete. Inej couldn’t believe what she was hearing. “I don’t need a net.”
Kaz consulted his watch. “Didn’t ask. We have six hours to sleep and heal up. I’ll nab supplies from the Cirkus Zirkoa. They’re camped on the western outskirts of town. Inej, make a list of what you’ll need. We hit the silos in twenty-four hours.”
“Absolutely not,” said Nina. “Inej needs to rest.”
“That’s right,” Jesper agreed. “She looks thin enough to blow away in a stiff breeze.”
“I’m fine,” said Inej.
Jesper rolled his eyes. “You always say that.”
“Isn’t that how things are done around here?” asked Wylan. “We all tell Kaz we’re fine and then do something stupid?”
“Are we that predictable?” said Inej.
Wylan and Matthias said in unison, “Yes .”
“Do you want to beat Van Eck?” Kaz asked.
Nina blew out an exasperated breath. “Of course.”
Kaz’s eyes scanned the room, moving from face to face. “Do you? Do you want your money? The money we fought, and bled, and nearly drowned for? Or do you want Van Eck to be glad he picked a bunch of nobodies from the