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Kaz woke up to a burning pain in his leg, a reminder of how late he’d been awake. Pacing, sitting down then back up, restless in the quiet hours of the night. Usually, he could handle stillness - it helped ease nerves and pain. He could think clearly when those were gone. But lately his urge to move was destroying his focus, and it would destroy his forming plans if he wasn’t careful.
With a sweaty hand clenched over his cane, Kaz forced himself out of his tangle of sheets. With a pang of guilt he realized that his gloves were across the room, lying in a sodden heap beneath his desk. Is that what they were meant for? To guard the floorboards? He snatched them up before it dawned on him more, before anyone watching might judge him. What king leaves his crown where it might be toppled? Certainly not the King of the Barrel, the leader of the Dregs. He pulled them on as quickly as he could. The leather stuck to his skin, flooding him with a pasty, humid aftertaste, but he couldn’t take them off - not after seeing them lying forgotten. It won’t happen again. He swallowed down the feeling and took another step.
Coat, boots, hat. Each one went on with practiced precision, in a series of well-worn steps. Late-night walks weren’t particularly common, but Kaz went on them often enough to know how different he felt when he returned each time, like a newfound confidence had been burned through his blood. By the time he stepped out the door to the Slat, his hopes were at an all-time high, in a way he’d never let them get before. This will help. You’ll get back on track. But another voice inside him - a constant presence - told him to shut it down, and he listened. Hope had never brought him any good in the past. It wasn’t to be trusted now.
Only a few steps down the alley is all it took for Kaz to feel another presence, this one in physical form. A shadow drifting behind him, a spider ready to pounce.
“Hello, Inej.” He paused along the cobblestones to wait for her response. Instantly he found himself leaning on his cane, and he cursed whatever forces had woken him in the night. If the pain worsened, making the trip back up the stairs of the Slat would be hard to manage.
“You’re up early.” Her voice came from his right, and he turned to see her standing at attention, her hood pulled up so far that it nearly hid her shining eyes. A glint of silver at her hip was hitting a nearby lamp light just right, making Kaz take a step away to avoid squinting at her. Something else was off as well - Inej had spoken quickly, too fast to be a friendly matter. Was there something else she wanted to say, or was her mouth sitting open just enough so that the words would vanish off her lips?
“What business?” Kaz hated asking for clarification, especially to anyone whom he frequently spoke to by choice. Enemies may be another story, but the Wraith? She never hesitated, and yet he always knew her next move. What wasn’t she telling him?
Inej blinked, but didn’t look away from his stare. A bit of truth, then. He thought. At least she can bear to look me in the eyes. Finally, she pressed her lips together, and lowered her hood to begin. “I found more. Another slaver ship, out past Sweet Reef. They’re prepping the boat to leave at sunrise.”
Another ship. This had to be the third one this month. “I assume you intervened.”
“I couldn’t without risking being seen. The stadwatch are heavy tonight, even out by the docks.”
I’ll handle it. He would’ve said it, except he didn’t know how it would be true. Bribing local guards or even merchants could be done, but the stadwatch was harder. They’d be onto him in an instant, snatching his cane away as they pushed him through the water toward Hellgate. No mercy was ever given in the Barrel, especially to demons like him. It made his skin itch just to think about it.
“Kaz.” Inej’s voice brought him back, and he looked up to see her patiently waiting for the focus to return to his eyes. Something in him felt wrong tonight - never had he let anyone, not even a Crow, see him falter. A half-baked plan or a gamble at odds could be hidden from anyone, but this? It made him want to bite his tongue, or even better, curl back into bed. Any more slip-ups wouldn’t be witnessed if he was all alone. He readjusted his glove from where he’d wrung it sideways and put both hands on his cane. Inej lifted her chin up higher. “I plan to go back and find a way through.”
“No.” Inej wouldn’t get captured - she was too quick, too skillful. That wasn’t the issue. So what was it? He wanted to keep her safe, that was real. But something else hid behind that. An urge, a subtle heartache. Could he really stand a life without her?
“I’m not looking for permission. I would’ve gone back even if I hadn’t found you tonight.”
“So why confirm your position when I called to you?”
“When have I ever left you hanging?” Kaz had to backtrack his thoughts, away from all the points he had prepared. She was right - never once had she not answered when he said her name, in tones she could somehow hear from the rooftops. He had occasionally tripped up, falsely calling out when she wasn’t there, but every time her presence was real, she would appear in front of him, her loyalty unwavering, ready to report. Is that why it hurt so much to find her being pulled into her own world?
The Geldrenner let out two low, echoing notes from its clocktower, as if to remind Kaz of where he was. He couldn’t ask her to stay, not if she wasn’t willing. He wasn’t ready to do that to her.
“Inej -”
“I need to do this, Kaz.” Confirmation that even if he wanted to stop her, it would've been pointless. Still, she stood by him, waiting for something. Certainly not permission. Acknowledgment, then? Pity? He needed her for what came next, and she knew it, but this was clearly a new path, a fork in the road. She was straying away from the group. Why had she sought him out instead of racing ahead?
“If you’re going, leave now.” If she had seen this coming, she didn’t show it. Kaz tried his best not to, either. The more lenient he was now, the more likely it was to slip out later. His next words came out despite this, bubbling up before he could hold them in. “I’ll adjust the jobs for tomorrow. I’ll see to it that it runs smoothly.”
Kaz stood, stranded in the following silence, the words he’d had up next cast away by the smile in her eyes. He would’ve chalked it up to imagination if not for Inej stepping closer, her face far more prominent out of the shadowed edges of the alley.
“I’ll return before ten bells tomorrow. It shouldn’t be long.” He couldn’t remember what time she had told him the ship was leaving, but he trusted her judgment. He’d be there waiting for her, no matter the hour. “Are you sure you -”
“I’ve given you a chance, Inej. Go before I decide to change my plans again.”
She extended a hand in front of her, nearly brushing his sleeve. A silent invitation.
“Inej.” It came out softer this time, like a weak plea for help. Kaz hated the way it lingered in the air, the way it made him feel. This can’t happen.
When it came though, he didn’t stop it. She rested a hand on top of his cane, on top of his own. Instantly heat radiated through his glove, followed by a prickle of ice. His whole arm stilled. He kept his eyes fixed on her so that the waves could be held at bay.
“Thank you.” Inej stepped away and withdrew her hand. It came and went so quickly that he could still feel the ghost of it, yet he’d tell her to do it again in a heartbeat. A thought of Nina raced by, and he was suddenly grateful that the Heartrender wasn’t there to judge his heightened nerves.
She looked ready to leave him now, her body now slightly turned back to where she came. Always on the move. Kaz had to say something else, anything - a good luck, a be safe. But neither one was fitting. There was no luck or safety in the Barrel - only misery, and how you chose to cope with it.
“No mourners,” was the only one he said out loud. It was too formal, too harsh, but it felt better than any other option. Inej didn’t deserve false hope. She deserved the truth, and the truth was that no Barrel rat could be certain of their own future.
He waited for the reply, the echo of his words. Inej let out a breath she must’ve been holding in.
“No funerals.” It was strong but small, the voice she usually reserved for prayer. Then she squared her shoulders, tapped her fingers to the knives on her legs, and replaced her hood without a sound. She was back up above the streets within moments, her shadow curled into the roof.
Kaz glanced up.
He saw the Wraith look back at him one last time before she was gone.