Chapter Text
Sun's come up
And there's no one else around
Meet me in the shadows
Won't you tell me what you found?
You've got everything to lose
Yeah I'm waiting on you
Need to have a little trust in me
Just close your eyes and let me lead
“Where the Lonely Ones Roam” - Digital Daggers
-
“Let's start by getting out of here and finding you some proper clothes,” Kaz Brekker had said and then changed the course of her life completely.
So, off they went.
Not a quarter hour ago, Inej had been called into the parlor of the Menagerie afraid of being dealt a beating or worse. Now, she was being taken to procure clothes by her new boss. It was a very strange turn of events, but she followed obediently.
Kaz had led her to a tiny, dimly lit shop on Klerenstraat that was crowded with bolts of fabric and stock garments stacked in a disorderly manner. The shop clearly catered to a more... particular clientele. There were no drab mercher black colors here. The walls were lined with garish patterns in every color imaginable. A yellow striped waistcoat clashed horribly on its display with a pair of drab brown pants covered in an indeterminate amount of pockets.
Inej glanced back at Kaz doubtingly, but he nodded her forward from his post against a giant bolt of muslin.
She waded deeper into the shop, ignoring the growing sense of claustrophobia. She sidestepped a decapitated mannequin and squeezed into the only open space in the room, where the owner stood with open arms ready to assist her.
It was what any girl would have dreamed of: being fussed over by a shopkeeper who kept telling her she had gorgeous skin while the boy holding the purse-strings waited in the corner. However, this boy had a dangerous glint in his eyes and reputation dirtier than nearly every man who had walked through the doors of the Menagerie. He should have scared her. Truthfully, he did, a little, but somehow his frankness about the realities of his gang made him appear more trustworthy than Tante Heleen ever had. Inej would rather take a chance with this sharp-edged criminal than spend one more night in that den of misery and shame.
Inej pushed any reservations she had out of her head and let herself be whisked away to change into her new clothes. Instead of a fine Kerch dress lined in intricately crocheted lace and gathered flounces, she ended up in trousers, a soft linen shirt, and a quilted vest lined with hidden pockets. Kaz had told her to get whatever she wanted, as long as it was practical for climbing and running and all the other sorts of acrobatics she had been used to. There was no way she'd be climbing up anything in a long dress and petticoat. She would have left shreds of lace on every sharp roof finial across the Ketterdam skyline like a trail of breadcrumbs.
Once the clothes were paid for, Kaz led her back to the streets and explained more about the Dregs and what was expected of her. That all she had to do was to prove herself useful and then she could officially join the gang if she wanted. But first, she needed to learn to modify her skills to be a better fit for the rough jobs the Barrel demanded.
“Are you going to teach me?” Inej asked hesitantly.
Kaz just snorted in response. It was almost a laugh. “Do I look like I can scale a building?”
She glanced quickly at his cane. A part of her had thought it was just for show, to make him appear more intimidating. But after observing his gait, she realized that he did actually walk with a limp. She wondered what had happened. Why hadn't he simply paid some Corporalki to fix it? “Well-”
“I'm not going to be able to watch out for you. You have to learn to fend for yourself in the Barrel,” Kaz said, nearly puncturing through a rickety wooden footbridge with an extra hard jab of his cane. “Besides, I've already got too much to attend to. Per Haskell likes his coffers full and his club jam-packed with pigeons. Both are my responsibility.”
Inej's mouth curled into a frown. Not even two hours in his company and he was already trying to wash his hands of her? What was the point of buying out her contract at the Menagerie if Kaz was just going to pass her off to someone else?
“I understand,” she conceded. Best not to make enemies of the boss on the first day. “So, how do I start?”
“You start with Sepp.”
“What?”
“Sepp,” Kaz repeated, pointed his cane at a man sitting on a wooden barrel outside a narrow, crooked building. The place looked like a strong gust of wind might blow it over, or at least, knock a few of the loose siding boards straight into the canal. The man heaved himself off the barrel and stretched.
“This her?” He grunted.
“This is her,” Kaz confirmed.
Sepp looked Inej up and down. Inej felt as if she was being appraised for a sale. It was not the first time. Her heart began beating faster and her fingertips began to tremble. Maybe this had been a mistake. Maybe she was just leaving one house of nightmares for a new one. Maybe Kaz had lied to her about the contract and all of this really was just a trick. Maybe-
“Bit skinny,” Sepp was musing to Kaz, “but we'll build her some muscle. Teach her to move like the Stadwatch's on her heels.”
Sepp barked out a laugh and straightened the wool hat perched atop his head. It was then that Inej realized, with a jolt, that the man only had one hand. The cuff from where his left hand should have protruded was pinned back and empty. She tried not to stare, but Sepp caught her eye anyway. He just offered her a lopsided grin.
“Not to worry, you won't end up like me,” he said. “I'll train you up right. Train the acrobat right out of you.”
She wasn't so sure she liked the sound of that.
“See to it,” Kaz instructed. “And show her to a room when you're done.”
“You're leaving?” Inej blurted out without thinking as Kaz began to turn away. You're leaving me here alone? Already? Those were the thoughts that filled her head. She had only known him for a few hours. It wasn't long enough to become reliant on or attached to anyone. But he had been the one that saved her. The least he could do was give her some kind of guidance or encouragement.
“I told you: I'm not your babysitter,” he responded over his shoulder.
Inej couldn't help the look of hurt that passed over her face.
The corners of Kaz's mouth tightened and with a clipped sigh, he turned back to her, blocking her from Sepp. “Listen, you've nothing to fear from Sepp or from anyone else here. Everyone in the Slat-” he nodded at the decrepit-looking building next to them, “-is on your side now. And if anyone tries anything... go for their most vulnerable spot. Throat, nose, back of the knees.”
She really hoped that wouldn't be necessary.
And with that, he gave her a nod and continued on his way. Inej tried to squash the feeling of abandonment as her eyes followed Kaz until he disappeared into the late-night mists rising off the canal.
“I'm not teaching you anything today,” Sepp said as soon as Kaz was out of earshot. “It's too late and too dark. You don't want to misstep and break your bones on the first day, do you?”
Inej shook her head. She didn't want to break her bones on any day.
“Wise choice. Besides, I've got a glass of jenever waiting for me at the Hidden Door and they'll be closing in an hour. So, I'll show to your room and then I'll be off.”
Great. Yet another ally was discarding her as soon as meeting her. But she reminded herself that she was the new, green recruit of this gang, so she followed Sepp dutifully into the rickety building.
She was hit with such a wall of sound that it nearly threw her backward. The foyer was crowded with people and almost all of them seemed to be yelling. But as she squeezed in among them, she realized their shouts weren't shouts of anger. Some were laughing, others were teasing, a few were singing an old Kerch drinking song while lager slopped over the brims of their tankards. Just what kind of a place had she been taken into?
“This way!” She heard Sepp call over the ruckus and she wove her way over to him at the foot of a narrow staircase.
“Apparently someone landed a sapphire ring earlier tonight off some pigeon watching the performers on West Stave,” Sepp explained. “That's why they're all so loud. Well, louder than usual.”
Inej supposed landed translated to stole.
He led her up the creaky stairs and ushered her into a tiny room the size of a simple coat closet. It had a cot in the corner topped with a rolled-up blanket and a lumpy pillow. Other than that, the room was empty.
“Your humble abode,” he smirked. “See you bright and early tomorrow!”
And then he trotted back down the stairs, presumably off to the bar for his drink.
Inej closed the door slowly behind him, taking care to bolt it shut it tightly, and took in her new surroundings. The room had a tiny single-paned window that pointed towards the harbor. The moonlight that filtered through made it just bright enough in the room so she didn't stub her toes on the bed frame as she moved closer to peer outside. She could still hear the noise coming from downstairs, though it was muffled. Unlike the sounds of the Menagerie, these noises generally sounded... sincere and happy. It was a welcome change.
Only when she looked back at the little cot did she realize how tired she truly was. It had to be around three bells at this point. Had she still been at the Menagerie at this time, she probably would have been... but she shook her head to clear the thoughts from her mind. She didn't want to think about that place. Not ever again.
She slipped out of her shoes, then her vest. She folded it neatly and tucked it under the cot. They were the first things that truly belonged to her since she set foot in this country, so she would take care of them.
The bed was small, but it wasn't too uncomfortable. With all the commotion drifting up from the first floor, she doubted she'd be able to sleep much, but she would try all the same. It was the first time in over a year she'd been able to chose when she wanted to go to sleep. And to have a door that locked from the inside, rather than the outside. She felt a freedom that she almost forgot was possible. Resting her head upon the lumpy pillow, she was lulled to sleep by the muted, cheerful noises of her new gang.
-
Inej woke with a start the next morning and for a few panicked moments, she had no idea where she was. Her thoughts jumped to being captured again, but then the events of the previous night slid back into her memory. The Slat. The Dregs. The new stealer of secrets or jewels or whatever else that boy Brekker wanted her to get her nimble hands on. But first she needed to learn how exactly to do it. She needed to find Sepp.
The main floor of the Slat, which had been packed nearly to the brim last night, was completely deserted in the soft glow of the morning. Apparently, none of them were early risers. But Sepp had said to find him in the morning so she assumed he was around somewhere. She eventually found him perched on a low wall out back, picking at a tin of jurda flowers. Despite the late-night drinking, Sepp looked wide awake and fresh as a spring tulip.
Sepp was small but built like a boulder. He was the type of man who looked deceivingly slow because of his thick muscles, but he was surprisingly agile. He wore a grey wool cap pulled down low over his forehead, which cast his eyes in permanent shadow. Only the reflection of the sun in the stagnant water pools of missing cobblestones highlighted his small, hazel eyes. His mouth grinned crookedly, possibly from the wad of jurda that was always tucked in the left corner of his lip.
He had been one of the Dreg's information gatherers, a man who could fit into nooks and crannies where no one would notice him. That was, until he lost his left hand a month back in an accident. He was good, but not good enough to continue his job one-handed. He was well aware that Kaz was only keeping him around until Inej was ready to take over his duties. It was fine. The Barrel was a dangerous place and Sepp didn't need anymore missing limbs to remind him of that.
Sepp rolled up his sleeves as he prepared to get to work, and Inej couldn't help glancing at the empty space where his hand should have been. He followed her gaze.
“Not pretty is it? He asked, gesturing with his good hand to the still healing stump. It was covered with pink, stretched looking skin that ended in a still-healing band of lumpy scar tissue. “This is what'll happen when you wedge yourself into a place where you shouldn't be. Just make sure you're capable of getting out as well as in.”
Inej mentally filed away the warning then forced herself to look away from his missing hand. Was this what awaited her in the Barrel? Missing limbs, scars, and ill humor?
The training started easily enough. The tiny courtyard behind the Slat gave them enough room to practice some moves and for Sepp to assess her skills. That alone was something to get used to. While she hadn't worked with a net or any safety devices for some years, she at least had the cushion of grass or even soft dirt to land on. Here there was nothing but stone and brick. There was no give to help with her landings at all and it made her joints want to buckle from the impact every time.
Many of the skills Sepp wanted to test her on were basics. She had enough practice on the aerial silks that climbing a rope up to the third floor of the Slat and sliding back down was no more than a simple warm-up to her. She could flip forward and backward off the low wall separating their courtyard from the building next door.
“You're thinking too much like an acrobat,” Sepp remarked after she vaulted over the wall, kicking her feet to the side and landing with both of them squarely together. She had cleared the obstacle perfectly, but for some reason, he was not smiling in approval.
“I wonder why that is?” Inej asked humorlessly.
“You don't have to stick a perfect landing every time. You just have to land and not break your ankles.”
“I didn't.”
“No, but you cleared it sideways. If it was a higher wall, that wouldn't have been an option.”
In response, Inej turned, took a slow jog to the wall, and cleared it head-on. She spun around on her landing and cocked her head in a challenge.
“Wrong!” Sepp said with growing frustration. “You can't have your toes pointed! You do that, you're going to clip them on the edge and fall on your face. Keep your toes up so you can land and keep going. No sticking a landing and standing there. Keep moving forward! You're not going to lose a Stadwatch podge by jumping over a row of trash barrels and standing there to see if he's following. You jump it and keep running!”
“Did you expect me to keep running right into this wall?” Inej asked innocently, pointing to the first floor of the neighboring building that was only a short few feet away from the low wall she had just cleared.
“I mean when you're in a situation where-”
“How's it going?” A low voice rasped from behind them both.
Inej glanced around Sepp to see Kaz Brekker in their narrow alley, leaned up against the bricks, watching the pair growing more and more irritated with each other. She straightened up, panting, and brushed aside the strands of hair that were sticking to her sweaty forehead. Of course he would happen appear right when she was getting chewed out.
“She's too perfect,” Sepp said, gesturing to Inej with frustration.
Kaz raised an eyebrow. “Is that a problem?”
“It wouldn't be if she was shooting a target or forging a document,” Sepp scoffed, showing his disdain for the other specialized skills some members of the Dregs possessed. “But that ain't what she's here for. She still moves like a performer, not like someone who uses her skills actively. She always keeps her chest lifted. Her posture is too good.”
“That's how I was taught,” Inej defended, wiping her palms on her pants. There were tiny bits of stone and crumbled brick beginning to burrow into her skin. “Why is that such an issue? Posture is important for balance.”
“You're doing tricks. This is all just an act to you. But to us this is a way of survival.”
Inej didn't expect the words to hurt as much as they did.
“So break her out of it,” Kaz interrupted. “She has the skills already, she just needs to learn a different style. If you're not up to teaching her, I'll have Roeder do it.”
She recognized the subtle challenge in his words. So did Sepp, apparently. He scowled and assured Kaz he was the right person for the job. It was in all of the Dregs' best interests to keep on the lieutenant's good side.
And Kas was right. Her body already had the skills and training for a solid foundation. She just needed to apply them to a real world setting. Nothing more than her pride and the applause of an adoring audience was dependent on her past performances with the traveling carnival. In the Barrel, she'd have an entire gang of thugs and possibly her own life depending on her. That was enough to motivate her to learn. For now, at least.
The following days were a blur of running, climbing, jumping, and an endless stream of shouted commands from Sepp.
“You need to be in your knees and your ankles more!”
“Your stance needs to be lower for stability. Keep your center of gravity down!”
“You need to run faster, push harder! You need the momentum to carry you up the wall and keep going after!”
On the swings, one of her older, stronger cousins took the part of the pusher and Inej would be the one to fly when the swing reached the peak of its arc. She didn't make the momentum herself; she only used it to carry her 20 feet into the air. And then she landed. It was really a simple trick, once you got over the fear and learned to love the feel of flying.
On the high wire, there was no one to rely on but herself and the give of the wire. There was nothing but the ever-present pull of gravity and the subtle wind that threatened to knock her down. When she was on the wire, every worldly care seemed to fade away. There was only one thing to concentrate on: moving forward.
But learning what Sepp was trying to teach her... was actually much harder. Learning a new skill was one thing, but re-learning a skill you had been refining for years was an even greater challenge. For the first few days of his training, her body's muscle memory outright refused it. But slowly, she began to adapt.
It took her the better part of two weeks to kick the habits that she had learned over the course of her life. She still stood straighter than Sepp and didn't take the exact same hunched-over stance that he favored, but she'd found her own mix of acrobatic style with the quicker and momentum-driven style that he insisted she learn. For all his harsh words and criticisms of her polished techniques, he was right about their uselessness in a real life situation. Though flashy and crowd-pleasing, many of her skills had no place in a real fight. So, she took the technique of what she did know and applied it to something that a street thug would require, like scaling a wall or rigging a length of fisherman's rope to suspend herself from a bridge. For all Sepp's strength and perpetual motion, he didn't have the fluidity and flexibility she possessed. That was something she would be able to use to her advantage. It was just going to take her some time to figure out how.
And then one day, Sepp was just gone.
She searched the Slat up and down and found nothing. Confused, she loitered around the landing of the second floor so she could conveniently ask Kaz about him as soon as he emerged from the attic.
But Kaz just shrugged. “He wasn't needed anymore.”
It was a cruel way to dispose of a man who had lost a limb for his gang. But if you were no longer of use to your crew, then your crew assumed no responsibility for you. It was an equal exchange of give and take. That was just good business.
“Well... what am I supposed to do now?”
“Find something else to learn,” Kaz suggested, not even pausing in his uneven descent down the stairs.
The boy certainly wasn't a talker and he didn't offer much by way of instruction. She'd have to find a new mentor and a new skill to learn by herself. Luckily, the Dregs were a rowdy bunch by nature and were all too willing to share their trade secrets with Inej.
The first thing she learned was how to wield a dagger.
Everyone in the gang had their weapon of choice: axe, gun, spiked cudgel, rusty meat hook. She didn't like the looks of some of the crude weapons the members displayed proudly. And besides, if she was to be running and climbing all over the Barrel, she'd need something small and easy to hide on her person. One of the more petite members had suggested daggers and loaned her a few to practice with.
“Hold it this way,” the girl had instructed, the knife held in her fist, sandwiched perfectly between her thumb and forefinger. “Don't flick your wrist, keep it straight. The half-spin is a good way to start. Good for accuracy. If you want to throw from farther away-” she adjusted her grip and laid her forefinger atop the blade's side, “-throw like this. You get more control, but it's slower. Not as powerful.”
Somehow, Inej seemed to have a natural talent for it. She found herself hitting the mark more often than not and she hated to admit that she actually enjoyed it. At least, she enjoyed the art of it until she remembered that one day she'd be aiming at living, breathing people instead of a wooden target drilled into a brick wall. The thought made her queasy.
Next, another Dreg insisted she learned how to approach a person and incapacitate them as silently as possible. Inej was skilled in the art of sneaking up on people already, but it was the noise of the victim she was worried about.
“Choking isn't a very silent way to die,” the tutor of the day explained knowingly. “Do this and they won't make a sound, but you'll still have to worry about them hitting the floor. That always makes a sound. It's more of an... attack and then cradle gently to the ground! They'll appreciate it in their final moments!”
The way that most of them talked about death sounded completely normal to them, but it sounded horrifying to Inej. Death hadn't been something she'd ever joke about, but the Dregs did it constantly. Maybe it made being surrounded by it easier to deal with.
She learned how to win (but usually lose) at cards and Makker's Wheel from a friendly Dreg named Jesper. That wasn't particularly a skill she wanted (or needed) to learn, but he had dragged her out with him in an effort to introduce her informally to some of the other gang members. Kaz didn't say anything to her when he saw her at the tables of the Crow Club while he was watching the floor, as he did on nights when he had nothing more nefarious to take care of. Gambling was a big part of the gang, and a big part of life in the Barrel, so Inej supposed it really was a necessary skill to learn.
Inej had been awake early one morning a few weeks into her induction, practicing her throwing at the wood target behind the Slat. Mornings were always quiet. When the normal working class of Ketterdam were beginning their day, the gangs of the Barrel were usually dragging themselves home and heading to sleep. It was a good time to practice her new skills and not be bothered. When her shoulder began to ache from whipping knives continuously, she sheathed them and headed inside for some tea and breakfast.
She located a tin of the least offensive tea leaves she could find in the Slat's pitiful excuse of a kitchen and dumped a spoonful into a mug of steaming water. Then she curled herself into a chair next to the window to wait for them to steep.
Life was very different now, she mused, watching a brow boat slide past through the cracked window next to her empty corner. A month ago, she would never have dreamed that she'd be learning to throw knives or drop enemies to the ground in complete silence. A month ago, she couldn't even see past the next day. Most days, she had hoped the next day would never come. Everything was very different now. She wondered if her life would have been different if she had known all these skills before the Menagerie or before the slavers pulled her from her life in the traveling caravan. If she had known all this when she was taken from her parents, could she have slipped out of the slavers' grasps before they locked her in chains? Would she have had the courage to take a life to save her own?
Suddenly, a loud thump startled her out of her reverie.
Kaz Brekker was standing in front of her and had dropped a massive padlock onto her side table, nearly upsetting her mug of tea. Inej stared at it for a moment, and then stared up, questioningly, at Kaz.
“This is a pin-tumbler lock,” he said, forgoing any greeting or niceties. “You're going to learn how to pick it.”
“Oh,” she stated, not knowing how else to respond.
In the weeks that Inej had been with the Dregs and living at the Slat, Kaz had hardly spared her a glance. In fact, she'd barely even seen him at all. Per Haskell kept him busy, whether attending his usual duties as floor boss at the Crow Club, handling all the book keeping, overseeing goods coming into the harbors, or collecting debts owed. He seemed to be constantly in motion, so it wasn't surprising that he hadn't had time for a newbie like her, even if he had been the one to bring her into the gang in the first place. He never loitered around the main floor where the majority of the Dregs spent their time. He didn't swap tales of success or boast about the day's profits. Maybe fraternizing with the underlings was beneath him. He was the second in command after all.
One time, she had observed Jesper trying to get Kaz to join him and some other Dregs in a game of cards in the early evening before the usual events of the night picked up.
“C'mon, Kaz!” Jesper had called from his perch at one of the high-top tables. “How about a quick game of Three Man Bramble? Just one! What'd you say?”
“What do you say to ten broken knuckles and not being able to draw a card for a fortnight?” Kaz had responded as he headed up the stairs without even breaking stride.
Jesper had winced and clutched his cards a little tighter in his hand. “I say I like my knuckles just fine how they are. Offer retracted.”
And that had been the end of that.
It was common enough to see Kaz lurking around the Barrel at night and dropping in if he had business to discuss with the old man, but no one ever saw him at the Slat during the morning hours or early afternoon. Inej had assumed that was when he slept. If he slept. From the looks of him, sleep wasn't a luxury he afforded very often. He looked like he always did just now: black suit, cane, and unreadable expression.
“I'm to be a lock-pick and a thief now?” Inej asked, finally finding her voice after watching him settle into the chair next to hers. “I thought I was only going to be stealing information.”
“It pays to be multi-talented. There wouldn't be much point in climbing a 3-story building if you can't get into the locked window at the top, would there?”
“I suppose not.”
“Right. So, this lock is a simple mechanism of pins and springs that open when they're set at different heights,” he explained, turning the lock over in his gloved hands. “When the key aligns them properly, the plug inside will rotate and the lock will open.
He produced two slim metal instruments from his pocket. “This is a tension wrench and this is a pick. You keep tension on the wrench while you use the pick to push the pins up. Watch.”
Kaz picked up the lock and began to work. For all his sharp and rough edges, Kaz was positively gentle in the way that he approached lock picking. He held the wrench in his left hand and the pick in his right, and worked at the mechanics like it was the most simple thing in the world. It was as if the hunk of metal was clear and he could see right through it. Seconds later, the lock clicked open.
“Esy as that,” he said and snapped the padlock shut again. He placed it on the table and set his picks next to it. “Now you try.”
Inej picked them up warily. There was no way she'd be able to open it as easily as Kaz had. If she could even get it to open at all. She took up the picks and worked at the lock for a few minutes, trying not to squirm under the judgmental scrutiny of his gaze. She wished he'd stop watching her, then she might be able to make some actual progress.
After a few minutes and little improvement, Kaz took the lock back from her.
“You can't slide it back and forth and expect the pins to stay up. At least, not with this type of pick,” he reached into his pocket again and produced a more jagged looking instrument. “You can try that with this type. Because it had ridges, it'll hit the pins up at different levels and it'll work faster, since you can work more than one pin at a time. Try it.”
Inej took a deep breath and then began sawing away at the lock. Kaz watched her with disapproving eyes for a few moments then motioned for her to stop.
“No, you have to go in at more of an angle-”
“I am!”
“More of an angle. Weren't you watching when I showed you?”
“Yes,” Inej gritted her teeth in frustration.
“I'll show you again,” he said, taking the picks back. “You're not going to get it right away. It takes some time to get good at it. Look, you have to go like this-”
“I can't even see what you're doing!” She bent closer to observe, her head drawing dangerously close to Kaz's.
It would be a lot easier for her to see if he wasn't wearing those damnable gloves! They were too bulky to show the subtle movements of his fingers and the way he angled the pick to scrape along the inner workings of the lock. They were both growing frustrated with each other. Inej from the lack of actual instruction and Kaz from teaching someone who didn't seem to be picking up the skill at all.
A sudden clamoring on the stairs made them both look up and Pim appeared, bleary-eyed and clutching his head. It was the telltale sign of a bad hangover. Inej held in a pitying laugh as he groaned when the morning sun hit his eyes.
Kaz was already standing up, displeased that Pim had disturbed their peace. Maybe it was a good thing. Inej hadn't been able to get very far with the lock anyway. It had already disappeared from the table, hidden away in one of his suit's many hidden pockets.
“We'll continue another time,” he said shortly and vanished up the staircase before Pim had time to register that Kaz had even been there to begin with.
Inej was already dreading it.