Rule of Wolves (King of Scars #2) - Leigh Bardugo Page 0,129

Mister Verent—a former member of the Council in good standing—is now under investigation.”

“He isn’t.”

“No?”

“He was found guilty and sentenced to two years in Hellgate. His political rivals have already carved up his fortune.”

“How swift is Kerch justice when there’s money to be made,” Nikolai marveled. “The captain and her ship are known only as the Wraith, but I have it on good authority that this mysterious Suli woman is Inej Ghafa.”

“Never heard of her.”

“No?” Nikolai feigned shock. “That surprises me, given her association with the Dregs and her considerable talent for puncturing people with all the zeal of a nearsighted auntie trying to embroider a quilt. But it may be for the best that you have no personal connection.”

“Is that so?”

They had stopped at a huge iron door with an elaborate locking mechanism.

“Have you heard of the izmars’ya?” Nikolai asked.

“My Ravkan is rusty.”

Even if that were true, Nikolai had no doubt Brekker knew exactly what the izmars’ya could do. But if he wanted to play, they would play.

“They’re submersible warships that travel beneath the sea. They can attack any vessel unseen, and are almost impossible to evade. Some very powerful people in Kerch possess this technology. If the Wraith’s enemies convince the Kerch government to use these weapons against her, the Wraith and her crew could be blown from the water at any time.”

“A dire situation for her, no doubt.” Kaz’s voice was even, but Nikolai saw the way his gloved hand gripped the silver crow’s head of his cane. “And perhaps for the person who invented such a menace.”

The threat was obvious.

“No doubt. But it so happens that when this technology was granted to the Kerch, the very wise king of Ravka—have you met him? Unusual for someone to be so smart and so good-looking—had the hulls of the izmars’ya imbued with bits of rhodium, so that with the help of a Fabrikator and a certain device in his keeping, a ship could receive early warning of any submersible within a three-mile radius and take evasive maneuvers. If said ship was so inclined.”

“An early warning system.”

“Precisely.”

Brekker reached for the handle of the door. “And you have this clever invention in your possession?”

“Not on my person,” said Nikolai. “I know better than to fill my pockets with valuable merchandise around a thief known as Dirtyhands. But the device is well within reach.”

Brekker gave the handle on the iron door a spin. “Come with me, Sturmhond. If we’re going to pull this off, we’ll need some very particular help.”

28

ZOYA

THEY EMERGED FROM THE TUNNEL in an unfamiliar part of the city, and Zoya wondered if Brekker was deliberately trying to disorient them.

“We’re in the Geldin District,” Nikolai murmured. “The favored neighborhood of wealthy merchants.”

Leave it to Nikolai to have an accurate map in his head. It was as if they’d traveled to a different country, not a different part of town. The streets were tidy and lovely, all neat cobblestones and clean brick facades. Zoya noted the curtains in the windows, a woman walking home with her groceries, a housekeeper sweeping a stoop. Ordinary people, living ordinary lives. They did their shopping, ate their meals, lay down at night thinking of the health of their children or the work waiting to be done in the morning. Could they find a way to give this peace, this ease, to Ravka? Would there ever be a time when Grisha were free to choose their paths instead of living as soldiers? It was something worth fighting for.

They arrived at an elegant mansion with red tulips painted over the entry. Brekker rapped twice on the front door with the head of his cane.

Zoya recognized the young man who popped his head out—Jesper Fahey. They’d met him when they’d last been forced to work with Brekker’s crew. He was brown-skinned and gray-eyed and wore his hair shaved close to the scalp. If memory served, he was some kind of expert sharpshooter.

“I’m not supposed to let you in,” Jesper said.

Brekker seemed unperturbed. “Why not?”

“Because every time I do, you ask me to break the law.”

A voice from behind Jesper said, “The problem isn’t that he asks, it’s that you always say yes.”

“But look who he brought,” Jesper said, gazing at Nikolai with delight. “The man with the flying ships. Come in! Come in!”

Jesper threw open the door, revealing a grand entryway and his shockingly bright combination of turquoise waistcoat and hounds- tooth trousers. The ensemble shouldn’t have worked, but Zoya was forced to admit it did. He could