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Early morning orange light splattered through the windows, hitting the shiny wooden floor like flecks of paint. Wylan yawned. He was too tired and blurry eyed to tackle cold floors and icy canals today. In his mind, he was still in bed, but the thrashing sounds of Jesper trying to pull his boots on fiercely jolted him to the present.
"Do you have to go today?" He asked, watching Jes wrap up in a pale green scarf and matching gloves. Faint shadows from the translucent windows danced across his features, casting swirling tendrils over his eyes and cheeks. As with every morning after a very, very late night, Wylan was surprised to see the boy in front of him bouncing around, jogging down the hall and back with a take-away coffee, and repeatedly checking his watch.
Jesper adjusted his hat in the mirror, his eyes catching Wylan's. The reflection showed two teenagers. One was dressed in a smart white shirt and plaid trousers. The other wore an oversized t-shirt, his hair ruffled, his hands clinging to the stairwell's banister as if the final step were a deep drop into adulthood.
"It was you who suggested I start working at the markets." Jes replied, moving towards him in one stride.
"Don't you think your services are better suited here?"
"As soon as I get home, we'll convince the neighbours to invest in a massive communal waterslide."
"They already said no to a shooting-range, a pool, an animal rehoming centre..."
"All I'm saying is I'm the only one upholding neighbourly affection. I'll see you tonight."
Jes leaned in, daring Wylan to close the distance. When their lips touched, he felt a surge of heat rush through him, like Jes' energy transformed into static, each touch a new electric shock.
The hallway always seemed too small with Jes' tall, lanky body filling the space. He was thin, but with his rapidly moving hands and legs, he could control the room like an extravert moving the crowds in the Crow Club. Jes reached for the handle, and as the locks turned, a knock sounded through the door.
The two boys exchanged a glance. Who knocks this early? Jes squared his shoulders, and confidently answered to see no other than Kaz Brekker on the other side.
"What are you doing here? Ka-"
"Mr. Fahey," Kaz began, "I'd like you to meet Coen Jansen." Dressed in an evidently new suit, Kaz gestured to a brown-haired man beside him. "We were just passing through the district when I thought: what better way to introduce Mr Jansen to the Kerch financial system than to present him to one of our city's most esteemed families. The Van Eck name," Kaz directed this part to the man, "holds power in the majority of our country's dealings."
It was awkward and scary to see Kaz so chatty. Before anyone could see him, Wylan half-ran,half-tip-toed upstairs to get changed. Faint, jolly voices echoed up the stairwell. He heard Jes wearily welcome them inside. Pulling on a pair of smart trousers, Wylan smiled to himself. If all it takes to make Jes stay home is to involve him in one of Dirtyhand's scams, he was happy to welcome it with open arms.
The house was settling into its daily rhythm through the usual floorboard creaks, the faint whistles of kettles and clattering coffee pots. A building had as much of a tell as a person. Just as Jes struggled in a fight without his pistols, the Van Eck mansion's weakness would surface in the mere press of the wrong floorboard. The door swung open just as Wylan had wrapped a tie around his neck.
"I've settled them in the parlour." Jes said, throwing his scarf, hat and gloves onto the bed.
"I knew the day would come when Kaz would drag us back to the dregs, but I didn't think he'd bring the dregs to us."
Wylan beamed. He wasn't exactly happy that Kaz was using them this way, but he guessed he was happy that the Bastard of the Barrel saw them as beneficial. He did have some worries though.
"What is Kaz planning?" He asked. "What if this guy comes back to our doorstep after getting swindled?"
"And with the stadwatch in tow?" he added.
Hands pressed to his pursed lips in thought, Jes was, to Wylan's astonishment, perfectly still. The lanky boy spoke slowly.
"We'll make sure he doesn't come back. I've got a plan so follow my lead, and put these on-" Jes ran to the wardrobe and threw him a pile of silks, jackets and coats. Before Wylan could protest, Jes ran to the door. He turned only to wink and said:
"If I'm skiving off work, I'm making a show of it."
-
Jes had been smart to choose the parlour and not the dining room, as it was the only remaining section of the house that still appeared smart, clean and appropriately business-like. Wylan sprinted through the halls, slowing only to check himself in a window's slight reflection. He looked like an idiot, but it was Jes' orders so he entered the room with as much muster and prowess as he could manage.
Jes signalled to him immediately. "Mr Jansen, you must meet the hot-damn man Van Eck himself." Wylan nodded, and wearily sat at the table. "Mr. Van Eck, I was just telling our dear Mr De Konning, here" he motioned to Kaz, "of our most recent financial endeavours!"
"Ah yes, of course!"
Wylan nodded furiously. He had absolutely no idea what Jes was drinking, thinking or saying. During the brief pause, Wylan finally took in the room. Kaz was obviously using a pseudonym, and he mentally noted the name. The man - Mr Coen Jansen - appeared positively thrilled to be here. He was short, with bright and gullible hazel eyes, like a squirrel running for the nuts but missing the trap. The Bastard of the Barrel was positioned in a relaxed, yet accomplished state. He had the exact air of a family friend, stopping for a visit that he'd done a billion times before. If Kaz thought Jes was playing his own game, he didn't show it.
He carried on: "My dearest Mr Fahey, pray tell the room of our latest adventure.. I-I mean venture."
He knew his cheeks were already the deepest shade of red. He hated pretending. Meanwhile, Jes just took it all in his stride. Mr Jansen, features as flush as Wylans from his excitement, peered at his clothes. No wonder the room was so hot. He'd forgotten the million jackets he was wearing from being so flustered. The man continued by glancing down at his own suit. He raised a timid hand, and slowly opened his mouth.
"I would hate to interrupt you Mr Fahey, but your coats, Mr Van Eck, are you cold? Are you ill?"
Before Wylan could form an answer, Jes jumped in:
"Pardon me, but how dare you question a councilman's attire! This is Kerch custom! The addition of more than one coat signals a councilman's honour! His pride! And to say Mr Van Eck appears ill? I'll have you know that he is in his prime-"
In a motion of silent anger, Kaz grabbed a biscuit from the decorative plates and snapped it with a resounding crack. In seconds, his composure returned. He wiped the crumbs into his hanker-chief, folding it neatly, and slowly, carefully sipped his tea.
"Speaking of Kerch customs, let us talk business. Mr Jansen, no one knows the law of Ghezon like Mr Van Eck."
"Well, before I was rudely interrupted-" Jes began, but Kaz raised his gloved hand. With only a hint of annoyance, Kaz broke in.
"I believe I directed the question to my dear friend and colleague, Mr Van Eck."
By this point, Wylan knew the cross-games Kaz and Jes were playing. It was like getting caught up in a battlefield, but words were weapons, and Kaz had drawn first blood. He felt a bit sorry for Mr Jansen. He was just another pigeon to pluck, yet he'd found himself lost in this crossfire. With a sip of his Earl Grey, Wylan knew what to do. He motioned Mr Jansen closer, like friends sharing a secret. He spoke in a hushed tone.
"As you are aware, I am the esteemed Wylan Van Eck." He flung his arms out wide, revealing the various colours and fabrics. He looked like a drunken bird that had fallen into three or four pots of paint.
Mr Jansen nodded. He responded, "Pray, what is it you trade?"
"My partner and I have invested in a variety of services. We deal from pixies to daffodils, to a.. highly discrete butler service."
"A butler service? My, my, Mr Van Eck, you have your fingers in a plentiful pots of honey."
Kaz sighed audibly. Wylan stared at this Mr Jansen. It was astonishing that he hadn't caught on yet. Wylan wondered if he'd been this foolish when he'd entered the streets of Ketterdam?
At this point, he couldn't help it. He continued:
"Yes, we do. And I'll let you in on a secret, seen as we like you. We have a team currently hunting for the existence of unicorns."
This time Kaz winced. Mr Jansen's eyes seemed to have got brighter. He raised his hands in the air and clapped.
"My dear fellow, Mr De Konning. I know now why you brought me here!"
Kaz glanced upwards in surprise.
"I must talk to you at once!" Mr Jansen exclaimed. Kaz, under the pretences of his newest persona, looked to Wylan like a childhood friend who'd sold their first lemonade.
"You may use my study!"
Mr Jansen was talking before he'd left the room. He lapped at Kaz's heels like a puppy. The door finally shut, and Wylan slumped into his chair, the morning's fatigue coursing through him instantly.
"Where did he find a guy like that?" Wylan questioned.
Jes opened his mouth to reply, but stood up in a flash. "One second" he said, and he ran to the kitchens. The silence was suddenly overwhelming. The parlour seemed to be the only room in the house that held such tranquility. Wylan stared down the portraits surrounding him. He thought of his father choosing each picture. He sighed. Soon, him and Jes would repaint this room. The upstairs was already covered in art. Some was Wylan's, some his mothers.
A minute hadn't even passed when Jes returned. He was smirking and laughing to himself. Wylan couldn't help but smile too.
"What is it?"
"Don't eat the cake. I made the cooks put salt and vinegar in the mixture. Let's see how far we can take this."
"Kaz is gonna kill you."
Jes just winked. Both boys burst out laughing. It was the kind of enjoyment Jes always brought with him, as much a part of him as the pistols hanging from his waist.
But as the door opened and their laughter abruptly ceased, Mr Jansen entered the room with an expression that depressingly resembled a man with a losing hand. A puzzled looking Kaz trailed behind, and quietly shut the door between the parlour and hallway. Both slumped into their chairs but, Wylan figured, for entirely different reasons.
"It has come to my attention," Mr Jansen stated, "that the storage unit in which I was keeping my temporary offices and kruge, have" He actively sniffled, "been caught in a fire."
Wylan gasped to cover for Jes' snorting. He glanced to Kaz, who minimally shrugged in response.
"You have my sincerest apologies, sir" Wylan replied. "Has anything been saved?"
"The runner only gave a brief letter. It seems the building has burnt to the ground."
In the dim mid-morning light, Kaz was assessing his gloves, and Jes was jittery. Hair to cloth to hidden pistols, Jes' energy was quickly returning. If the man's entire empire has gone to smoulders, Wylan thought, then Kaz is no longer interested. He peered to Dirtyhands. Every shred of decency seemed to have evaporated. Kaz's expression was dull and dark. His mind was on the next plan, the next swindle.
The man began wiping his nose, his posture slumped. "It's so sad, you know" he murmured, "me and Mr De Konning were about to be life long business partners!"
"You've just missed out on the chance of a lifetime." Jes responded in the same unhappy tone. Mr Jansen flared up, and slammed his fist on the table. Yet, before he could speak, the doors to the kitchens flew open. Everyone started, except Kaz who was just sat calmly.
The servants entered with cake, scones and macaroons. "You must have something sweet" Wylan said, gesturing to the scones. The man barely perked up, but eyed the Victoria sponge.
"Would the gentleman like a slice?" asked the waiter. Mr Jansen only faintly nodded in reply. Wylan looked over to Kaz. Despite Wylan's joy earlier, his present problem appeared in the form of a man wolfing down an entire quarter of a Victoria sponge, through tears and a constant snotty nose. Would he leave?
The cake. Jes' eyes went wide as Mr Jansen coughed and gagged through his tears. Then, everything seemed to happen at once. A runner in a fine, black suit burst into the parlour. His eyes ran over the spewing cake, Wylan's panicked expression and Jes' pent up laughter.
"Mr Jansen," the boy said hurriedly, "I've come to fetch you! Part of your finances have been saved! You must come at once."
Finally, the boy spotted Kaz. His eyes became doubtful, weary.
"Sir, what on Earth are you doing with Kaz Brekker?"
Mr Janson could barely speak through the vinegar and salt. His eyes flashed to Kaz, to Wylan's clothes, and finally to the cake. He stood like a peacock flaring its feathers.
"YOU! You triffed MEE." He shouted, cake still spewing from his mouth. His eyes were watery and red. His hands shook, and remnants of icing and jam splattered across the table.
"And why do you think that?" Kaz asked as if he was utterly innocent. In seconds, he'd gone from surprised to bewildered.
The man didn't bare him any notice. His eyes met Wylan's.
"AND YOU!" he bellowed.
"W-what about me?" Wylan replied. He suddenly felt very hot in his coats.
"You welcome me with open arms, find out I am to be penniless, and against your better judgement, serve me salt! Salt to a man who's future was ruined! In a cake!"
Wylan felt he was focusing on something very specific. The cake wasn't even his idea. He gave the briefest glare to Jesper, who stood and bowed apologetically.
"Sir, Mr Jansen. I must remind you, the salt and vinegar is a Kerch cust-"
"DON'T you DARE say Kerch custom to ME, boy. I have been treated as a fool." Mr Jenson ran to the door, screaming, bellowing.
"This won't be the end of it, you HEAR. THIS ISN'T THE END MR DE KONNING."
There was a brief pause.
"BREKKER!" he screeched down the corridor. The front door slammed. Him and the runner had finally left.
Jes held his hands together and stared at his finger tips. He waved his arms, opened his mouth, and resorted to closing it again. Finally, he risked a glance at Kaz.
Kaz shrugged.
"That could have gone better."
The rooms decor suddenly felt suffocating. Wylan was reduced to the boy he'd been. He wasn't what Kaz had wanted him to be. He stared down a macaroon, his feelings grim.
Jes was rapidly coming up with excuses.
"You don't need him anyway. You heard him, his money is burnt to ashes."
"Part of it was. We can't know for sure." Kaz responded, always the practical.
"If it wasn't for that runner, we'd have gotten away with it." Jes offered.
"If it wasn't for that runner, and whoever's bright idea it was to put salt in the cake."
Jes and Wylan looked at each other. There was a silence. There were two boys and one Kaz, yet he managed to stare them both down. Finally, he sighed, a dagger ripping through the quiet.
"Are you two running a butler service?"
Finally, the tension in the room dispersed. Wylan shrugged off a few of his coats. Jes snorted and responded through laughter.
"No, that was just some spontaneous Van Eck genius."
"Ah. Right," Kaz stood, brushing some cake from his suit, "I need to go and clean up this mess."
The room felt cooler now. Food and drink showered the white cloth like an experimental master-piece. It was obvious from the whispers and creaking floors that a group of servants had their ears pressed against the doors. All it took was a glance to Jesper, and both boys stood.
"Hey Kaz, " Jes said, " d'ya want to stay for lunch? Wylan and I are in the middle of a game called Catch-a-Councilman. Whoever can shoot as many holes into Jan Van Eck's paintings in a five minute time span gets extra cream on their hot chocolate."
He may have imagined it, but the words "hot chocolate" caused a shiver to run through Kaz's body. In an instant, however, he was normal. Wylan would never understand the mysteries of the Bastard of the Barrel.
"I'm not playing your ridiculous game." He paused." I believe I get extra cream as compensation regardless" Kaz removed his coat, placed his cane on an empty chair, "for getting swindled by two unicorn believing idiots in three too many coats."