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Alina couldn't sleep.
After twisting and turning about in her bunk for what felt like hours, she had finally accepted that fact. Her body would have welcomed some rest - urgently needed it, in fact - but her mind wouldn't quiet down. There were too many things it yet had to fully process. Too many scenarios that played out in her head over and over again, as if by doing so she'd somehow find the key to this new responsibility she now carried.
So far, she hadn't found it.
Sighing, Alina threw off her covers. She needed some fresh air. Fumbling blindly in the dark, she put on her boots and got to her feet - and almost immediately lost her balance. She managed to catch one of the wooden beams overhead and regain her balance. Holding back a curse, she stood still for a few seconds to get used to the swaying of the deck below her feet.
It was her first time on board an actual ship, and while the novelty of it had overshadowed the more uncomfortable feelings at first, by now it had mostly worn off and Alina was left feeling very frustrated. Saints, she could summon light from her fingertips, but she couldn't seem to get her legs to comprehend that they weren't standing on solid ground anymore.
At least she could take some comfort in the fact that she hadn't gotten sea sick. At least there was that. Mal, for his part, had been less lucky.
It took her a good minute to stagger from her bunk, around the other sleeping passengers and various barrels, to the hatchway that led to the upper deck. Climbing her way up, Alina's face caught some ocean spray. She licked her lips and tasted the salt, which immediately made the irritation dissipate again. The newness of it all was still intoxicating. Alina had wished to see the true sea all her life. Now she was on it and bound not just for any West-Ravkan city, but for Ketterdam.
Ketterdam, Mal. We’re going to Ketterdam. A few weeks ago we joked about that, without ever thinking it’d happen. Now look at us.
It was still dark outside when Alina emerged onto the deck. The only light sources were the dim lanterns that were hung sporadically across the ship, giving off just enough light to see where one was going, but not enough to be visible across greater distances. A precaution against pirates and Fjerdan raiders, as the charming gunslinger, Jesper, had explained to them. Alina made for the closest of the lanterns on the right side of the ship – was it called starboard or portside, she wondered absentmindedly – and leaned against the railing. She spied a handful of crewmembers in the gloom, going about their work and not minding her presence. She guessed that as long as she didn’t get in the way, they didn’t care what their passengers were doing. An attitude which Alina welcomed very much.
The fresh breeze and the salt on her face did their part to clear her head. Alina sighed and closed her eyes, allowing herself to just feel for a moment. The past couple of weeks had passed in a blur and she felt like she had scarcely had any time to reflect on what was happening to her. Between Baghra, the Darkling, the king of Ravka and this strange group of kidnappers-turned-allies who were accompanying her, she had suddenly caught the interest of a lot of powerful people. Alina wasn’t used to that: she had always tried her best to fade into the background wherever possible. This new sense of power and importance that she supposedly had was frightening.
But also strangely gratifying. Something that Aleks- that the Darkling had understood all too well, it seemed.
Alina grimaced, the thought banishing the spell of peace that she had felt a moment ago. Trying not to think too much on that, she focussed on the dark sea in front of her instead. Through the night she had spied a faint glow on the distant horizon: not the reddish kind that heralded sunrise, but a more concentrated, man-made light. She wondered if that might be their destination already. The thought made her stomach churn anew with nerves.
"Are you alright?"
Alina let out a startled yelp, spinning towards where the voice had come from. She hadn't even noticed the dark figure perched on the rigging above her until she spoke. Even now she could only make out a silhouette. Then the silhouette jumped down from her perch and landed directly in front of her. What little of her face Alina could see in the dark looked embarrassed. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to scare you."
"It's alright," Alina managed. It was hardly the first time Inej had startled her by appearing so silently and suddenly, though she didn't seem to do it on purpose. Alina should really have gotten used to it by now. “I just didn’t expect anyone to be there.”
Inej clasped her hands behind her back. "I couldn't sleep," she said by way of explanation.
"Same," Alina nodded. She smiled at the other woman. In response, Inej lowered her eyes ever so slightly. Despite her stealthiness, knives and general confident demeanour, she still seemed to become oddly shy around Alina, which Alina found very confusing. "Would you mind if I joined you?"
"Of course not," Inej assured her promptly. She glanced up at the rigging and then, uncertainly, back at Alina. "Up there, or...?"
"Ha. Don't worry, I'll stay down here." Alina leaned over the railing, watching the white foam that the ship stirred up flow past below. Apparently they were going rather fast, though there was no way to tell in the absence of any fixed point of reference. She grimaced. "Probably better if I don't take any risks. It wouldn't be the best look if the sun summoner were to fall overboard and drown in perfectly calm waters. I've never been on a real boat before."
"Right," Inej tilted her head in acknowledgement, "you're East-Ravkan. If it's any comfort, you're hardly the first to find the sea challenging. Anybody’s first time experiencing it can be rough."
Alina nodded, silently noting that Inej hadn't commented on her Shu heritage. She was beginning to like this woman more and more.
Her eyes caught on distant the glow once more. She told Inej, "Actually, the past couple of weeks have been nothing but new experiences for me. First the Fold, then the Grisha, the Little Palace, your people...it's been a lot," she finished. A small snort escaped her. "Scary, mainly."
“I can imagine. But – well, you’ve made it through all that, no? That says something about your strength, I think.”
Alina sent her a grateful smile, though the other woman probably couldn’t see it in the dark. She realized she hadn't confided this to anybody before: how terrifying all of this still felt to her. Mal understood, or at least Alina thought he did, but she had never said it out loud to him, either.
She had only just somewhat settled in this role as the sun summoner. A part of her feared that if she acknowledged how unprepared she still felt, her confidence might collapse like a house of cards. But telling it to Inej was different somehow. They were in this odd space between strangers and trust where Alina felt like she could talk freely without having to justify herself to the other woman. It was a comforting feeling.
“Hang on a moment,” Inej said, pushing off the railing. She traversed the deck, retrieved a lantern from its sconce by the mast and returned – all without stumbling once, Alina couldn't help but notice with some envy. The dim light of the lantern cast shadows over Inej’s features, but reflected off the dark brown of her irises in a way that made them appear even deeper than usual. To her dismay, Alina was reminded of the Darkling’s eyes. His had had that same look to them that hinted that there was a lot hiding beneath their surface. And just like with him, Alina now found herself wanting to find out what it was.
With the Darkling, she had begun to find out, and the answers had not been pleasant. What if… Alina shook off that thought forcefully, reminding herself that he was dead and gone now. It wasn’t fair to Inej that a couple of shadows dancing over her face made Alina project things onto her. And in the other woman’s eyes, Alina failed so see any of that malice or that cold emptiness that she had glimpsed in her final confrontation with the darkling. Because of course there wasn’t any. This woman had risked her life for her, hadn’t she?
She must have been staring, because after a moment Inej averted her eyes again. Her fingers fidgeted around the lantern as she sat it down between them. “I… thought a little light might help,” she muttered.
“It does,” Alina reassured her quickly. “Thank you.”
“Whatever you need.”
It didn’t sound at all like the polite but meaningless phrase Alina had heard so often from the servants at the Little Palace. The way Inej said it, it sounded like a promise.
“Do you really think I’m a saint?”
The question was out before Alina could stop herself. She wasn’t sure if she really wanted to hear the answer. Or what she’d do with it once she had it.
Inej looked at her like she’d said something ridiculous. “Yes,” she said simply.
Alina looked down at her hands. They still looked and felt like those of an orphan from Keramzin, in spite of what they had done. “Because I can summon light?”
“Because you bring hope.”
No falter in her voice; in her belief. Alina clenched her fingers around the railing, turning to Inej fully. “I’m not a saviour. You saw what happened on the Fold. What he did with my power…” Alina faltered. A new wave of nausea washed over her and she pressed her eyes shut. She could still hear the screams of the people of Novokribirsk as the volcra tore them to pieces. They were on her conscience just as much as the Darkling’s. “I’m not sure what it is I’m bringing, but so far it’s hardly been hope.”
“No.” Alina felt Inej’s hand close over her own. She had a strong grip. Her palm was surprisingly calloused for someone with otherwise so flawless skin, and Alina was reminded that those hands belonged to an assassin. “I saw what you did at the Palace. The way you made the light dance. The looks on the people’s faces. The hope. That is your power. Not whatever that monster made you do.”
“You were there?” Alina asked, surprised. She thought that someone like Inej would have stood out to her, even in a crowd of Grisha and noblemen.
Then again, back then she’d had eyes only for the Darkling.
How foolish she’d been. She wanted to know, “Were you planning to kidnap me even then?”
Inej looked ashamed. “If I ever really considered it, I couldn’t do it after witnessing you,” she confessed. “After seeing you right there in front of me, in the flesh.” Her hand wandered to her chest, clutching the small cloth effigy that was stitched to her coat.
Sankta Lizabeta. Unbidden, Alina heard the Apparat’s voice in her mind: The people are already erecting altars to Sankta Alina. Was it true? Did people really see a saint in her, like Inej seemed to?
She scrutinized the woman in front of her. “What is it you expect of me?” she demanded. Again she was scared of what the answer would be, but she needed to know. And Inej needed to know that whatever it was, Alina was unlikely to live up to it.
Inej took her time to answer. Finally she said, “That you’ll do what you have to do. To banish the Fold.”
Alina almost laughed. “I have no idea how to do that.”
“Maybe not now. But you will find a way.”
“Does you faith tell you that?”
“Partially.” A small smile broke on Inej’s face then. “But mostly, I know a determined person when I see one.”
Alina blushed. She couldn’t deny that her mind had been running this problem ever since they had left the Fold. That was what Inej had seen. But there was also the other part of her that simply wanted to run. Leave Ravka and all of this behind and start a new life somewhere with Mal. Hardly a saintly sentiment. “I think you overestimate me.”
“I don’t think I do. But modesty is a suitable trait for a saint.”
Inej’s features were perfectly straight, betraying nothing. Alina tilted her head to the side, scrutinizing her. She prompted, “I think that was almost joke.”
This time the smile was unmistakable. “I’m very funny when I want to be.”
Alina laughed. She was surprised at how easy it came to her, given the events of recent days. Perhaps humour was the only way to meet this ridiculous turn her life had taken.
“So what do you do when you’re not kidnapping saints, anyway?”
Inej shrugged. “I break into places. I spy on people. Threaten them occasionally. Whatever Kaz needs in the moment.” She snorted. “I protect him when his plans go inevitably wrong.”
Alina had wondered what exactly the relationship between them was. At times they acted like business partners, at times more like her and Mal. They argued a lot. Whatever it was, Alina could see there was fondness involved. She couldn’t quite figure out how that reflected on the world of crime that they seemed to belong to, but then she didn’t have a lot of experience with criminals. “Anything besides illegal dealings, too?” she inquired.
“I train.” A knife appeared in Inej’s hands; the movement so fluent that Alina couldn’t have said where it had come from. She spun it around her fingers, the point always dangerously close to cutting into her palm. She continued, “Sometimes I watch Jesper lose his money at the cards table. Or – a rare enough miracle – I celebrate with him when he wins.” Then, softer: “I like to read. And in the evenings, I pray.”
Alina had the feeling that Inej had just told her something personal. She offered, “I liked reading, too. And drawing. That’s how I became a map maker. I rarely had the opportunity to draw at the Little Palace.” She thought of the cartographers’ tent, with its smell of ink and parchment and the sound of quill’s scratching over sketchbooks. Though she had never been the best map maker, that place had always been comforting in a way. After the Fold, she had rarely found that kind of peace anywhere.
Alina realized she had gotten lost in her thoughts and she looked up. Inej was watching her curiously. “You miss it,” she stated.
Why deny it? “I do,” Alina admitted. “Things were a lot simpler then.” No powers. No destiny. No enemies. Just a simple, unremarkable girl that few people looked at twice. "You'll laugh, but sometimes I still wish I could go back to being a simple cartographer."
Inej wasn't laughing. Her expression was thoughtful. "Is it nice? Being a cartographer?"
Alina nodded. "It was calm. Yes, we were part of the army, but we never really got into any fighting. We’d go into the field and map out terrain, or just compare and update old maps in our tents. I think a part of me enjoyed it. It was simple and uncomplicated.”
And yet all this time there had been something missing. Something Alina couldn’t even name or had been really aware of until the Darkling revealed her power.
“Kaz would say, ‘Simple is just another word for boring,’” Inej commented.
Alina snorted. Figures. She nodded towards Inej: “And you?”
Inej leaned over the railing, looking at the sea below. “Sometimes I long for simple, too.” When she turned back to Alina, there was a mischievous sparkle in her dark eyes. “But then I think of what I would be missing out on. I’ve only been a part of Kaz’ crew for a few years, but I don’t remember much from before anymore. No, I don’t think simple is for me.”
Alina found herself smiling back. Something inside her fitted into place. “No, me neither.”
Inej gave her a light, almost conspiratorial nudge. “You’re going to love Ketterdam, then. Whatever else you can say about it, it’s like no other place I’ve seen. It’s certainly not boring.”
“I hope not! Mal and I have been talking about visiting it for as long as we knew it existed. I still can’t believe that we’re actually here…”
…as fugitives, the reminder reared in Alina’s mind unbidden.
It was a sobering thought. For a moment she had let herself forget the situation they were in; she’d tried to be only a young woman excited for new things. But forgetting wasn’t a privilege she had anymore. Not with this responsibility she carried. The thought made her shiver.
“Are you cold?”
The worry on the other woman’s face was almost adorable. "A little. Aren't you?" Alina returned.
Inej shook her head. "I'm used to it. Lots of late-night stakeouts will do that do you.”
Somehow I’m not surprised, Alina thought drily. "We’re not on a heist now, though," she stated. "Here, lay your hands over mine."
Inej hesitated for a moment before she complied. Alina noted the look of uncertainty on her face. It wasn’t wariness; rather it seemed to be more of that same shyness, as if Alina actually were some untouchable holy saint.
Even in the short time that Alina had known this woman, she knew that that expression didn’t belong on her face. The Inej who helped save her life in the Fold was anything but uncertain. "Relax," Alina implored her, throwing in a smile. “I don’t bite.”
A brief spell of nerves overcame her as she prepared herself. She’d flunked this initial part often enough when Baghra was training her, and doing so now would be pretty embarrassing. Relax, Alina, she tried to follow her own advice.
However, her worry dissipated within moments. She reached inside and it took her but a moment to find the light. As she felt it flowing through her veins, Alina’s smile widened. It came so easy to her now. Something that she had only heard about in tales, that had frightened her so only weeks before, was now just a thought away. A tiny orb of light appeared between their linked fingers, giving of a bright golden glow. Immediately her hands felt warmer.
Alina grinned and shuffled a bit to block the light with her body. She’d rather not give one of their sailors a heart attack if they caught her doing this, by all accounts, impossible thing.
She looked up to find Inej staring down at the light, awe on her face. Awe; fascination; a little bit of fear – Alina had seen that look before. But no one had worn it on their face quite as openly as Inej. She was focussed on the light in rapt attention, as if she wanted to drink it all in, fearing it would disappear any moment if she didn’t.
Then Inej looked up and the same expression shimmered on her face as her eyes met Alina’s. When she spoke, it came out little above a whisper: "You're a miracle."
Alina blushed. She didn’t know what to say to that. What did one say to that, except laugh at the ridiculousness of it all?
“You are,” Inej insisted, reading into her silence. Her grip on Alina’s hand tightened. “Maybe you don’t see it that way, but this…you...It’s special. And I swear I’ll protect you, whatever it takes.”
“…Thank you,” Alina managed.
Behind them, a dry voice said, “Well, if a sudden and mysterious cult of the sun saint starts springing up in Ketterdam, you’ll know where it came from.”
The two women turned around, Alina still flustered, Inej visibly annoyed. Alina’s light fluttered out. Behind them stood Jesper, having adopted his usual casual stance and eating an apple. At the look on Inej’s face, he dropped it and raised his hands in a placating manner: “Which I am in no way saying is a bad thing.” He tipped an imaginary cap towards Alina. “Good morning, by the way.”
“Morning,” Alina returned.
Inej eyed her friend critically. “Why are you even up? You’re normally comatose until well past sunrise.”
“Rude,” Jesper returned, though he didn’t sound very offended. He picked up his apple again. “Is it so hard to believe that I woke up, saw your empty cots and got worried?”
“Yes.”
“Alright: Your saint’s friend is a snorer. So is half the population of this vessel. It’s like the inside of a lumber mill down there. I am sensitive to that kind of thing, alright?”
“Evidently.” Inej laughed. “Maybe the fact that neither the saint nor I had a problem with it should tell you something. Namely, that you’re overly sensitive.”
“Please, just,” Alina interjected, “just don’t call me a saint, both of you.” She felt like she needed to stress this, even if to Jesper it was most likely all a jest. It wasn’t as funny to Alina. “All I can do is summon light. Maybe, maybe I can use it to fight the Fold. At least I'll try. That doesn't make me a saint."
"Uh..." Jesper looked at her with a furrowed brow and evident confusion. "I'm not a believer, but I'm pretty sure that's the dictionary definition of a saint."
Alina gave him a look.
Jesper’s hands rose for a second time. “No saints here. Got it. Just relax with the dirty looks.” He looked between Alina and Inej. “I can’t tell she’s rubbing off on you or it’s the other way around.”
“Maybe we just both find you equally irritating sometimes,” Inej suggested. Her grin dimmed a little when she returned her attention to Alina. She seemed to sense that there was something else on her mind.
"I keep thinking about what Zoya said," Alina confessed after a moment. "That saints become martyrs before they become heroes.”
Inej stood up a little straighter. “You won’t. Especially not while I’m around,” she stressed.
Alina caught a brief gleam of metal from her belt, where she knew the other woman kept her dual hook-blades. Or maybe that had been her small throwing knife. Inej had stocked up to replace her lost arsenal before they’d boarded the ship.
"How many knives do you have?" Alina wondered aloud.
"Eight or nine, usually. Now I've only got four," Inej replied. Then a smile appeared on her face and she produced Alina's gilded letter opener from within her cloak. "Five."
Alina noticed that the tip of the previously harmless instrument was now filed to a sharp point. "Have you ever had to use all of them?" Alina wanted to know, equal parts impressed and intimidated. Around her, Inej seemed almost shy, but Alina had no doubt that she could have killed her in seconds if she’d wanted to.
Everybody around her seemed to be so much better prepared for their situation than she was.
Inej's brow furrowed. “Only this once. We were cutting it very close in the Fold."
That was one word for it. Alina tried for a more joking tone: "So most of them are just to be on the safe side, then. The very safe side."
That drew another smile from the other woman. "You could say that, I suppose. Sometimes it's just for intimidation. Usually, if I have to draw one of my knives I have already done something wrong." She nodded over to Jesper. "Or he has."
"When do I ever do something wrong?!" he protested.
Inej shot him a look. "Do you want the list in chronological or alphabetical order?"
"Neither, thank you very much. Why does everyone always question me even though I am inarguably the most useful member of the team?"
"Is that so?" Inej pointed at Alina. "Sun summoner." Then she indicated Jesper. "Ageing gunslinger."
"I. Am not. Getting. Old!"
Alina grinned, tuning out of the conversation and leaving them to their banter. They seemed to enjoy annoying each other, in a strange way. Maybe it was a sign of friendship; Alina wouldn’t know. She had very little experience in that field. But she found that she wanted to stick around in their company for a while longer, to find out. She wouldn’t mind calling them her friends. Which was a very strange thought, given how she had first met them, but then much stranger things had happened to her since then.
Dawn was coming on quickly now. By the time the sun was peaking above the horizon, the ship had become a buzz of activity as sailors went about their work preparing the ship to dock. Kaz came up from the hold soon afterwards, followed by Mal. He put an arm around Alina’s shoulder as he stood next to her and Alina instinctively leaned into him. His touch had always meant safety to her, but especially so now after everything they had been through.
She felt more than saw Mal’s smile as he pointed towards the rapidly approaching city across the water. “Ketterdam,” he said.
“Ketterdam,” Alina agreed, knowing that Mal was thinking the same thing she was. A smile came over her lips: Two orphans from Keramzin, fleeing the country for an uncertain future. In a way, it resembled the dreams they had shared as children, though the reasons why they were here now were so fantastical that certainly neither of them could have dreamt them up back then.
As they drew closer, Alina got a better view of the city. Or at least of its waterfront. It was certainly the biggest harbour that she had ever seen, but its size didn’t seem to be reflected in the buildings itself: half of them seemed rickety and run-down while the others almost resembled bad copies of the Little Palace, albeit much smaller and wedged in between others of the same kind. It all looked rather crammed, as the city itself was fighting for space. That was reflected in the number of people Alina could see milling about the quayside, even at this early hour. She spied sailors and fishmongers, the rags of beggars and the colourful dresses of nobles. A great clamour of voices rose from them all. They were joined by the cries of hundreds of gulls circling overhead, standing out against the grey morning sky.
It was an odd mix of shabby and grand. In a way, it was exactly what Alina had imagined.
She scarcely noticed Kaz stepping up next to her until he spoke: “What are you thinking?”
“That it’s not going to be hard to stay anonymous here,” Alina replied. A frown came over her face. “And that the same probably goes for whoever may be following me. Oh, and that if someone is following me, this city must be the perfect place to make me disappear,” she added, nodding at him.
Kaz gave her a sideways look. "You've picked up a few traits from that darkling," he stated.
Alina scoffed. "Don't be ridiculous."
"That wasn't my intention." He inclined his head slightly. "Not wanting to accept them is understandable. But I suspect they'll serve you well in the future."
Alina felt Mal’s arm around he tighten. She noted that he was staying very close by her side, watching the others surreptitiously. He still didn’t fully trust them. Except for Inej, probably for good reason. Alina had to remind herself that they were criminals, heading to a city of criminals.
Kaz turned to her fully. There was a warning look on his sharp features, one that instinctively made Alina tense up. “I don’t think I really need to say this,” he began, “but for the sake of remaining anonymous...”
"No light show, I know," Alina agreed pre-emptively. The thought left a bitter taste in her mouth. Sharing it with Inej had felt good, but she was sensible enough to know that she wouldn’t be able to do it again for a while.
“Not even in emergencies,” Kaz stressed. “If something should go wrong, you stay behind us or you run. But best just follow my instructions and there shouldn’t be a problem.”
"I got it, alright? I can do without another city full of people out to kill me."
"Most people in Ketterdam wouldn't kill you straightaway," Kaz disagreed. "We'd just try to exploit your powers for our own ends. Some might even let you destroy the Fold for them. And then kill you before you became too powerful to be controlled."
"That's comforting," Alina scoffed. "Thanks."
For the first time, she spied a small smile crossing the other's lips. "You have to take what advantages you can find. While you are alive, you have options."
Inej sent him a glare. “I’m sure she appreciates your optimism, Kaz.”
“Optimism gets you killed here. She needs to know what she’s dealing with.”
Alina stared at the waterfront in front of her. The novelty and excitement of Ketterdam had already given way to apprehension, and she had yet to set a foot inside the city.
Just before the ship docked, Inej took her aside. There was that intense look on her face again as she spoke to her: "Kaz means well, but he can be an idiot. You have to understand something else: Me and the other girls at the Menagerie, we used to tell each other stories about the saints. Sometimes they were all we had." She took Alina’s hand and clasped it around her talisman. "Not everyone in Ketterdam will see you as just a prize. Never believe that."
“At least I know one person who doesn’t,” Alina tried for a light-hearted tone, though in truth she was terrified. She nodded to Mal. “Two.” She stopped at Jesper. “Three, maybe?”
“And more,” Inej nodded in confirmation. Then, smiling, she bowed her head to Alina a second time. She didn’t need to say anything else: she had already made her promise. And though it still made Alina uncomfortable, she couldn’t deny that it did make her feel safer.
"Alright then," she replied gratefully. And, because it was the truth, as they started making their way onto the dock she added, “I trust you.”