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The truth was she’d tried to sneak up on Kaz plenty of times since then. [Six of Crows]
*
The first time wasn’t on purpose. A month or so after she’d arrived at the Slat, Kaz called for a meeting with her and some other Dregs. She entered the room the way she always did, moving soundlessly to stand, unnoticed, behind everyone else. They were all looking at a large map of Ketterdam pinned to the far wall, listening while Kaz outlined the sketches of a plan that would doubtlessly involve a considerable amount of mayhem. One of the Dregs, a twitchy boy named Jesper who kept compulsively stroking the pearl handle of his gun, asked a question about roof access. Without turning, Kaz said, “Perhaps Inej could tell us?”
“Inej—what?” Jesper said, then yelped when he twisted round and saw her. “When did you get here?”
“She’s been standing behind you for a while,” Kaz replied, finally glancing back at her. His eyes were cool, meeting hers.
“Well, Saints, announce yourself next time,” Jesper grumbled. “We should put bells on you.”
“Wouldn’t help,” Kaz said. Inej arched a brow at him and finally a hint of a smile drifted across his face, there and gone in an instant. “Well? Talk to us about the roof.”
*
His room in the Slat had a window that looked out over their slice of the Barrel. She’d initially been surprised—an opening to his private sanctuary seemed like something Kaz Brekker would would have avoided. Closer inspection revealed that this window, set high in the roof and surrounded by steep, slick tile, would be a challenge to nearly all potential trespassers. It was nothing the Wraith couldn’t handle, however. She wondered, as she slid down the roofline towards the dormer, if Kaz knew that.
She got her answer moments later when she swung round to get a look at the lock on the window. Pasted to the glass just above was a note in Kaz’s familiar scrawl. Hello, Inej. See if you can get through the lock in under three minutes.
She made it in two.
*
“Would bells make a difference?” Jesper mused one night when they were sitting at a back table at the Crow Club. He was nursing a glass of cheap whiskey and trying futilely to snatch away the knife Inej was spinning on the table top. She opened her mouth to reply but Kaz beat her to it.
“The first time I met Inej, she was wearing bells.” He took a measured sip of his drink and then set it down again, meeting her eyes across the table. “I still didn’t hear her approach.”
For a moment, Jesper just gaped at him. “She snuck up on you?” The gunslinger straightened in his seat, unholy glee spreading across his face. “I mean, I’ve seen her disappear, I knew she was good, but she got one up on you?!”
Kaz glanced at Jesper and one corner of his mouth kicked up. “That’s why she’s the Wraith,” he murmured, and something close to pleasure spread through Inej at his words. His smirk grew. “Of course, she’s never been able to do it again.”
She lifted her chin. “What makes you think I’ve been trying?”
He snorted, amused. “Oh, you’ve tried.”
She opened her mouth to deny it and then gave up, grinning. “All right, yes. I’ve tried. I don’t know how you do it.”
“Secrets of the trade,” Kaz replied.
“Bloody good hearing, and nerves like a skittish cat, more like,” Jesper said. “Ah, well, probably best that way. We wouldn’t want you to be accidentally gutted.”
“No,” Kaz said softly, looking back down at his glass, “we wouldn’t want that.”
It was another moment before Inej was able to tear her gaze away.
*
The closest she got was the afternoon she spent following him through West Stave. Kaz was planning to meet with a potential business prospect; before he left, Jesper mentioned that there might be trouble with one of the other gangs. Kaz duly ignored this warning, leaving with only his cane for protection. Inej understood why he wouldn’t take anyone else with him—it was the middle of the day and West Stave ostensibly should have been safe for anyone who didn’t have anything to fear. Dirtyhands would never ask for help, especially not when he felt he had something to prove. Inej climbed up to the roof and set out after him.
He walked with purpose, a boy in a dark coat who didn’t break stride for anyone. In the Barrel, people shied away from him; whispers followed after him, which he ignored. He had to contend with more crowds once he crossed over the canal into West Stave. It was easier for Inej to get closer here; the buildings were more orderly, the rooflines less chaotic. For a time, Inej kept pace with him, three stories over his head. He never once turned.
She cooled her heels on the roof of a tavern while he had his meeting, entertaining herself by trying to coax some crows to take bread from her hand. The crows muttered to themselves and hopped around her, their eyes bright and eager, and finally one bird’s courage grew enough for it to close the distance enough to snatch a crumb from her palm. She christened this one Kaz.
The rest of the small flock had overcome their qualms by the time the real Kaz finally emerged. Inej dusted her hands off, ignoring the disgruntled squawking, and steeled herself for the journey back to the Slat.
A few blocks away from the Slat, Inej finally let her guard down, confident that no one was going to jump Kaz so close to their own territory. She was debating when and where she wanted to drop down on him when he came to a sudden stop in the middle of the street. He hesitated for a moment and then veered down an alleyway and ducked into a building. Inej cursed, changing direction. She mentally ran down the list of exits and finally chose the one she thought most likely, scrambling back over the roof.
He wasn’t there. She swore again and changed direction, but her second choice yielded no joy either. She paused, gripping an old weathervane as she considered her options, and chose one last exit to check. She couldn’t think of what had given her away.
When she finally made it back to the Slat, Kaz was sitting against one wall, listening to Anika and Pim. His cane was stretched out in front of him; she’d seen from his gait before that his leg was probably hurting. Despite that, his face was unshadowed as he looked up at her. “Hello, Inej. Have a good afternoon?”
“Passable. Your meeting went well?”
“It was nothing I didn’t anticipate.”
“Is that so,” she said, narrowing her eyes at him.
His lips curled up. “I confess, there was one moment where I lost the thread, but I was able to pick it up again without much trouble. And everything turned out the way I wanted.”
“How wonderful for you,” she bit out.
“Why Inej, you sound frustrated,” he said, and there was no mistaking the devilish light in his eyes. “Is there anything I can do to help?”
“You,” she started and then despite herself, had to laugh. “No, Kaz, there’s nothing you can do.”
“Ask me,” he said quietly, and she knew he was offering to tell her how he’d made her.
“No,” she said, turning away. “This one I have to work out on my own.”
*
Usually she came in through his window. She liked to slip her legs over the sill and perch there, leaning against the frame, while he worked at his desk a few feet away, sketching plans or making notes or reviewing accounts. She found it comforting, balancing like that; if she looked one way she could see across the rooftops of Ketterdam, her own private domain. Look the other way and there was Kaz.
The day it happened, she took the stairs. Later, she’d wonder if things might have turned out differently had she’d chosen otherwise.
She’d been in her own small room when Rotty had poked his head in with a question about one of their regulars at the Crow Club. The man had been acting oddly the last few days, betting more than he normally did, playing long after he would have normally bowed out. “Think there’s something going on with him,” Rotty said. “Kaz hasn’t said anything to you?”
Inej shook her head. She’d noticed as well but assumed that Kaz had a reason for letting it go on so long. He usually did.
“Making me nervous,” Rotty said. “But I don’t want to bother himself. D’you think you could…?”
Inej didn’t know when she had become the go-to person for a Dreg who wanted something from Kaz but was unsure of their reception. She nodded and watched as Rotty relaxed slightly, relieved.
“He’s upstairs?” she asked, and stood fluidly from her own bed at Rotty’s acknowledgement.
Kaz’s door was slightly open. He stood in front of his desk, looking down at some papers; the lamps were lit and suffused the room with an intimate glow. Inej silently slipped into the room and took a breath, readying to spring up on him. Then her eyes registered what she was seeing.
He was in shirtsleeves and braces and the fine material had turned somewhat transparent from the light, revealing the shape of his body underneath, long and sinewy and strong. Inej paused, struck; it was not often that anyone saw Kaz without one of his exquisitely tailored coats. Then he shifted his weight slightly, still looking down, and her eyes caught on his hands, pale and uncovered. She stared.
“Something you wanted?”
Inej blinked and dropped her gaze.
She heard him turn around. “Inej?”
Her throat felt dry. “It’s—Rotty wondered—”
Kaz sighed. She finally managed to raise her eyes and watched as he leaned back against the desk, crossing his arms. His sleeves were rolled up to the elbows, exposing his forearms. His tattoo stood out, dark against his skin and his hands were like the rest of him, elegant and capable. She blinked again.
“Rotty worries too much.”
“You should talk to him.”
“I don’t have time to explain every one of my decisions, Inej.”
“So what should I tell him?”
Kaz tilted his head, studying her. “And you have better things to do with your time than hold Rotty’s hand.”
She could feel her heart, thudding heavily in her chest. Inej swallowed. “Five minutes out of my day to set his mind at ease doesn’t seem like the greatest sacrifice.”
“Mmm, if you say so.” Kaz was clearly thinking about something else, his eyes still resting on her. She could feel the weight of his stare, tracing over her face. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing.”
A line creased his brow. “It’s not Rotty, whatever you may say. Did something happen?”
Inej forced herself to relax, breathing out. “Nothing happened, Kaz. Talk to Rotty.” She moved to leave.
“Wait,” he said, and her body came to a stop without conscious thought, as though it was tied to his voice. “I’ll come with you.”
Kaz pushed off the desk. Inej watched out of the corner of one eye as he rolled down his sleeves and slid on his coat. He pulled on his gloves last, easing the supple leather over slim fingers. Inej turned away again and headed down the stairs. There was no point in lingering.
“Your door was open,” she tossed over her shoulder.
His cane thumped down after her. “Next time I’ll make it harder for you.”
“I wasn’t—” she began and then remembered abruptly: she had been meaning to sneak up on him. “I was,” she allowed and felt more than heard the soft puff of his laughter, trailing after her. He so rarely laughed; it always felt like a monumental accomplishment whenever she inspired it.
“Someday,” Inej vowed, “I’ll get the jump on you again.”
He drew level with her as they rounded the last landing. Below them, the Slat spread out, filled with Dregs who came to attention as they noticed Kaz and Inej, standing there. Kaz said, looking out at his people, “If anyone can do it, it’s you.”
The certainty in his voice filled her with an emotion she didn’t want to examine too closely. He started down the last set of stairs. She watched him for a moment more and then took a deep breath and stepped backwards, out of sight.
**