Chapter Text
Kaz screamed.
He could feel the icy cold water surrounding him, soaking his heavy suit and filling his lungs. He bit back a second cry using all of his willpower. Kaz tried to gasp in a breath but the current pulled him under and he choked on the murky black water that he had inhaled.
He flailed desperately, the end of his trousers caught on a strand of seaweed at the bottom of the canal. His suit only seemed to be weighing him down. He used the last of his remaining strength to pull a penknife from his pocket that, miraculously, hadn’t slipped out. Swimming frantically against the tide, feeling his chest burn from the lack of air, he clumsily opened the knife and cut the weed from where it clung to him.
The last thing he saw before he blacked out was a ripple in the surface of the water, and a dark figure swimming effortlessly towards him like a guardian angel.
***
Kaz opened his eyes slowly, blinking as black spots cleared from his vision. He was beginning to come to when he was overcome by a violent cough. He proceeded to heave out gallons of saltwater and what appeared to be a kind of seaweed onto the cold floor.
Kaz pushed himself up from his elbows, groaning as he did so at the ache that covered his entire body, and looked around.
He was in a dark alley, the only light from a lone lantern that lay next to him. He was still wearing his drenched suit and blazer - remnants of a life he suspected he’d left behind forever. An old blanket had been draped over his shoulders by his mysterious saviour.
What had happened that had got him here? The events of the previous afternoon (judging by the position of the sun in the sky, that looked like it had just risen) were coming back to Kaz in flashes. He must have been unconscious for nearly a day. The last thing Kaz could recall that made any sense was his father telling him he was sending him to a school for ‘troubled children’ miles away from Ketterdam.
In other words, Kaz’s father was getting rid of him.
Kaz had never been a happy child. Whilst the other mercher’s children were happy to play their playground games, oblivious to the harsh world that lay beyond the safety of the Geldstraat, and, as time moved on, learn to be good merchers from their fathers, Kaz wanted more. Always more.
When he was younger, that meant scaring the other children with tales of throats of rich sons' throats slit under the cover of darkness, and stealing his favourite kind of sweet from Cook after Father had told him he was allowed no more. As he grew, it began to mean selling drugs to wealthy sons who were unsatisfied with their lives, and teaching himself thirty ways to kill a man with his bare hands. Even the supposedly squeaky clean life of the rich had its dark corners, if you looked hard enough.
When Kaz’s father had announced he was sending him away, Kaz was ecstatic. He supposed his father had assumed he would be upset about leaving the only life he’d ever known, but he’d only felt glee. His father had grown tired of his antics, or ‘attention-seeking’ as he liked to call it, and Kaz had finally managed to push him over the edge when he stole his precious De Kappel and led him to believe it had been taken by a notorious gang called The Dregs.
Kaz himself looked up to The Dregs’ infamous leader, Wylan Van Eck, whose name was revered in dark corners and shady taverns, and only among circles that were less than savory. He was known for his ruthless methods of retrieving information, and inexplicable power over every criminal in the Barrel. Some were afraid to say his name in more than a whisper, as if the act itself would summon the man and his wrath.
Kaz had heard rumours that Wylan was only eighteen himself, but they were only whispers, and he’d brushed them off as pure superstition.
He’d believed he couldn’t leave Ketterdam and his father’s iron rule quicker. As he sat on the boat two hours later, clutching only a small suitcase filled with his meager belongings - he’d never been one for excessive possessions - he had fantasised about another life. One where he could run away from his fancy boarding school and join a gang of criminals, put his extensive knowledge of violence to use.
He was so caught in the fantasy he was taken by surprise when the two men his father had paid to accompany him tossed him over the side of the boat, into the freezing Ketterdam canals.
It didn’t take long for Kaz to put it together. He’d never been the kind of boy who glossed over the truth in favour of a nicer illusion.
His father had tried to have him killed. It made perfect sense. He’d figured out his father’s new, young, wife was pregnant weeks ago - weeks before his father knew. Of course he’d try to rid himself of his troublesome, delinquent son now his line was secured.
Kaz didn’t have any feelings left for his father. Only an anger that the man had denied Kaz the life he deserved - a life of crime. If so, then why did he feel such a gaping hole in his stomach at the thought of his father ordering his demise?
It was then that Kaz came back to himself, and noticed the Suli girl. She was sitting on a blanket beside another lantern, in the corner of the alley. She was cleaning a wet knife with the end of her blanket. Her dark braid and black trousers were both dripping with water. It didn’t take a genius to figure out what that meant.
Kaz forced his body up, and he walked up to the girl, who was so engrossed in cleaning her knives - Kaz could now see she was holding more than one - she didn’t notice him coming. He tapped her on the shoulder. Without pause, she pulled a clean knife from her belt and held it against Kaz’s throat. He froze, and she looked him over before releasing him suspiciously.
He could see his pocket knife on the blanket beside one of the girl’s many weapons. She must have taken it from him whilst he was asleep. She saw him glance at it and hissed ‘don’t even think about it’ into his ear.
Kaz slumped his shoulders, as if he were giving up. The girl relaxed, and Kaz wrapped his arms around her throat, shoving her against the alley wall. She struggled, trying to reach one of her knives, but they were secured to her belt, and he had both of her arms pinned to the wall with his fists.
The girl simply grinned. “You do realise I would have let you go if you hadn’t just shown me how talented you are?”
Kaz realised his mistake a second too late. The girl broke free of his hold, as if she had never been under his control in the first place - perhaps she hadn’t - and twisted his arm behind his back, so hard he had to grit his teeth to keep from crying out. For all the reading Kaz had done on attack techniques, he’d never had any real life experience until this moment.
The girl pinned Kaz to the alley floor, her face so close to his that he could feel her breath on his skin, the end of her braid scraping his neck. As Kaz struggled, he pushed up abruptly, causing her cheek to briefly brush his forehead. At the sudden touch, she recoiled, staggering back to the corner of the alley, an expression of disgust frozen on her face.
Kaz was left panting in a heap, nursing his wounded pride, if he had any left. He held his hands up in the universal sign of surrender. Kaz considered himself extremely skilled in fights - especially those where he was not bound by rules. However, he also considered himself a man with common sense, who would not let himself be killed by the first attacker he encountered. Whilst it hurt to admit, it seemed that, given her significantly larger amount of experience, this girl was easily able to best Kaz in combat.
The girl approached Kaz cautiously. She took out a new knife from one of her boots and gestured for Kaz to hold out his hand. He did so, his arm shaking involuntarily. Cursing his lack of self control, Kaz watched in horror as the girl cut into the edge of his palm and created a mark matching where Kaz had scraped her hand. Blood spilled from the cut, and it stung like hell, but Kaz gritted his teeth and waited for the pain to pass. It wasn’t as if he hadn’t sustained much worse injuries from his father’s ferocious tempers.
The girl nodded in approval at his restraint, and tossed him a bandage from her bag. She was already using the other to cover her own hand.
She smiled. “Now we’re even.”
If Kaz wasn’t so scared of her, he would have rolled his eyes.
The Suli girl gave Kaz five minutes to wrap his wound before dragging him up by the arm. He was long past the stage where he would have tried to protest.
“Where are we going?”
“You’ll find out when we get there.”
Kaz sighed, and tried again. “At least tell me your name, if you’re going to hold me hostage.”
“This isn’t a hostage situation.” Kaz tried to protest and the girl raised an eyebrow. “Unless you want it to be.”
Kaz decided that from then on he should keep his untrustworthy mouth shut.
“By the way, it’s Inej.” said the girl. “My name is Inej.” She looked him over. “Hopefully you’ll find I’m not too bad once we’re sure you’re not from a rival gang.”
Kaz’s breath caught in his throat at the mention of gangs. This girl was from a gang? Now he thought it over, it made sense. Perhaps the situation was closer to Kaz’s plans than he had imagined. As long as he made sure that this gang didn’t kill him first.
“I’m Kaz. Kaz Brekker.”
It was Inej’s turn for her mouth to fall open. “Brekker? Merchant Council Brekker? As in, the most powerful mercher in Ketterdam Brekker?”
“I’m his son.” replied Kaz half heartedly. Maybe he shouldn’t have told Inej. He hoped he’d be able to build up such a reputation that one day, the name Brekker would not only make people think of his father.
Inej’s grip on his arm tightened. “When I saved you from that river, I didn’t realise I’d be bringing back such a catch.”
Kaz scowled. Of course that was what Inej would think of, instead of the skills he had displayed during the fight.
“I’m not going to get you any money. I was in the river because my father tried to have me killed. If you send him a hostage letter, all you’ll get back is an order to get rid of me yourselves.”
All Inej could let out was a small “Oh.”
They stood in silence whilst Inej packed the two wet blankets into her bag and slung it over her shoulder. As she got ready to leave the alley, she broke the uncomfortable quiet.
“I didn’t know mercher’s sons could fight like that.”
“They don’t.” said Kaz. “Most of them, at least. They’re all spoiled brats.”
“Is that a self description?”
Kaz let out a dry laugh, devoid of any humour.
“I assume your affinity for violence is part of the reason your father attempted to have you killed?”
“I’ll let you guess.”
“Well,” said Inej. “You’ll certainly fit in in the Barrel.”
Kaz froze. “The Barrel?” he asked, too scared to hope.
“I assume observation isn’t one of your best qualities.”
Kaz turned around to the alley exit. He’d been so caught up in the shock of the river, and then the fight, that he hadn’t thought to look.
Outside the alley was West Stave. Actors in Comedie Brute costumes ran up and down the street, and workers in colourful clothes enticed tourists into flashy gambling dens and bright pleasure houses. Kaz had never seen this part of Ketterdam for himself. His father had closed the carriage curtains, blocked out the noise with lectures on the economy. It was just as marvelous as Kaz had imagined.
Before Kaz could take in everything he saw, Inej pulled him out of the alley and onto the street. He was ambushed by loud noises and bright colours, and it was nothing like anything he’d seen before.
He snuck a glance at Inej. She looked less enthralled by the sight of the women in feathers crowded in the entrances to pleasure houses, and the men in top hats handing out ‘Free passes! Valid for one day only!’
Inej took Kaz away from West Stave quickly, seeming to relax only when they’d left the manic, beautiful street behind.
“You fought well.” she said finally. “Wylan will be impressed with you. And I’m sure your story will help sway him.”
It was then Inej adjusted her bandage, and Kaz noticed the crow and cup tattoo on her forearm.