Crooked Kingdom (The Six of Crows Duology #2) - Leigh Bardugo Page 0,83

around to laying sand yet.”

“That’s okay,” said Jesper with a wince as the wagon hit another bone-rattling divot in the ground. “I don’t really need my spleen in one piece.”

The farmer laughed. “It’s good for you! Jogs the liver!”

Wylan clutched his side, wishing he’d shoved Jesper out of the wagon after all and jumped right down with him. Luckily, only a mile later, the wagon slowed before two stone posts that marked a long gravel drive.

“This is as far as I go,” said the farmer. “Not a place I want truck with. Too much suffering. Sometimes when the wind blows right, you can hear ’em, laughing and shrieking.”

Jesper and Wylan exchanged a glance.

“You saying it’s haunted?” asked Jesper.

“I suppose.”

They said their thanks and gratefully slid down to the ground. “When you’re done here, head up the road a couple miles,” said the driver. “I got two acres still need working. Five kruge a day and you can sleep in the barn instead of out in the field.”

“Sounds promising,” said Jesper with a wave, but as they turned to make their way up the road to the church, he grumbled, “We’re walking back. I think I bruised a rib.”

When the driver was gone from view, they shrugged out of their coats and caps to reveal the dark suits Kaz had suggested they wear underneath, and tucked them behind a tree stump. “Tell them you were sent by Cornelis Smeet,” Kaz had said. “That you want to make sure the grave is being well maintained for Mister Van Eck.”

“Why?” Wylan had asked.

“Because if you claim to be Jan Van Eck’s son, no one is going to believe you.”

The road was lined with poplars, and as they crested the hill, a building came into view: three stories of white stone fronted by low, graceful stairs leading to an arched front door. The drive was neatly laid with gravel and bordered by low yew hedges on either side.

“Doesn’t look like a church,” said Jesper.

“Maybe it used to be a monastery or a school?” Wylan suggested. He listened to the gravel crunch beneath his shoes. “Jesper, do you remember much about your mother?”

Wylan had seen a lot of different smiles from Jesper, but the one that spread across his face now was new, slow, and as closely held as a winning hand. All he said was, “Yeah. She taught me to shoot.”

There were a hundred questions Wylan wanted to ask, but the closer they drew to the church, the less he seemed able to capture a thought and hold it. On the left of the building, he could see an arbor covered with new-blooming wisteria, the sweet scent of the purple blossoms heavy on the spring air. A little past the church’s lawn and to the right, he saw a wrought-iron gate and a fence surrounding a graveyard, a tall stone figure at its center—a woman, Wylan guessed, probably Saint Hilde.

“That must be the cemetery,” Wylan said, clutching his flowers tighter. What am I doing here? There was that question again, and suddenly he didn’t know. Kaz had been right. This was stupid, sentimental. What good would seeing a gravestone with his mother’s name on it do? He wouldn’t even be able to read it. But they’d come all this way.

“Jesper—” he began, but at that moment a woman in gray work clothes rounded the corner pushing a wheelbarrow mounded with earth.

“Goed morgen ,” she called to them. “Can I help you?”

“And a fine morning it is,” said Jesper smoothly. “We come to you from the offices of Cornelis Smeet.”

She frowned and Wylan added, “On behalf of the esteemed Councilman Jan Van Eck.”

Apparently she didn’t notice the quaver in his voice, because her brow cleared and she smiled. Her cheeks were round and rosy. “Of course. But I confess to being surprised. Mister Van Eck has been so generous with us, yet we hear from him so rarely. Nothing’s wrong, is it?”

“Not at all!” said Wylan.

“Just a new policy,” said Jesper. “More work for everyone.”

“Isn’t that always the way?” The woman smiled again. “And I see you brought flowers?”

Wylan looked down at the bouquet. It seemed smaller and more straggly than he’d thought. “We … yes.”

She wiped her hands on her shapeless smock and said, “I’ll take you to her.”

But instead of turning in the direction of the graveyard, she headed back toward the entrance. Jesper shrugged, and they followed. As they made their way up the low stone steps, something cold crawled over Wylan’s