Chapter Text
Wylan frowned and erased what he’d drawn.
Draw letters. Prove to Brekker you’re worth more than insurance, because when he finds out what you’ve done, he’ll kill you. He pulled his thumb from between his teeth. An awful habit, truly. He glanced up toward the blond boy that Brekker was trying to convince to join them.
“What makes you think you’ll be going back with a tongue?” Kaz asked coldly.
Wylan set his jaw. Brekker was being unnecessarily harsh. He studied the blond’s features. A very nice face, truly. Strong jawline. Cheekbones that could cut glass.
“I don’t want your money. I’ll give you the plans for nothing. If you’ll let me kill Nina Zenik.”
Wylan’s jaw dropped, the pencil falling from his hand. He glanced down at his sheet to see he’d drawn the blond boy, blood pouring from his mouth, his tongue resting in a black glove. Wylan shuddered, crumpling the paper.
He listened as Brekker and the boy bartered back and forth.
“What if Bo Yul-Bayur is dead?”
“Van Eck insists he isn’t.”
Wylan tuned them out, pulling a fresh piece of paper toward himself and beginning to draw again. He tuned back in to hear Brekker’s introductions. “I believe you know Nina. The lovely girl freeing you is Inej, our thief of secrets and the best in the trade. Jesper Fahey is our sharpshooter, Zemeni-born but try not to hold it against him, and this is Wylan, best demolitions expert in the Barrel.”
“Raske is better,” Inej said.
“He’s not better,” Wylan protested. “He’s reckless.”
“He knows his trade.” Inej was baiting him.
Wylan took it. “So do I.”
“Barely.” Jesper’s word stung. Wylan flushed.
“Wylan is new to the scene,” Brekker said. Wylan’s indignation swelled.
“Of course he’s new, he looks like he’s about twelve,” the blond said.
Wylan’s shoulders drooped. “I’m sixteen.”
It was clear from the Fjerdan’s face that he didn’t believe Wylan.
“We should be using Raske,” Jesper said. “He’s good under pressure.”
“I don’t like it,” Inej said, her gaze trained distrustfully on Wylan.
“I didn’t ask,” said Brekker, and Wylan felt a bit better, until he continued. “Besides, Wylan isn’t just good with the flint and fuss. He’s our insurance.”
“Against what?” Nina asked.
“Meet Wylan Van Eck,” said Brekker. Wylan flushed crimson. “Jan Van Eck’s son, and our guarantee on thirty million kruge.”
Wylan met Jesper’s gaze as the darker boy burst out laughing. “Of course you’re a Councilman’s kid. That explains everything.”
Nina looked stunned and irritated. The Fjerdan just looked confused. Brekker looked utterly pleased with himself. Inej didn’t look surprised in the least. Then again, Wylan hadn’t often seen her with much emotion in her face. Wylan turned his attention to Brekker.
“You knew?” He felt miserable, and tried to keep it out of his voice.
“Why do you think I’ve been keeping you around?”
“I’m good at demo.”
“You’re passable at demo. You’re excellent at hostage.”
Jesper continued to argue that they should leave Wylan in Ketterdam and take the Raske guy instead.
“Wylan doesn’t know enough people to cause us real trouble,” said Brekker.
“Don’t I have some say in this?” Wylan complained. “I’m sitting right here.”
Brekker looked at him. “Ever had your pocket picked, Wylan?”
“I… not that I know of.”
“Been mugged in an alley?”
“No.”
“Hung over the side of a bridge with your head in the canal?”
Wylan blinked. These people are insane. “No, but—”
“Ever been beaten until you can’t walk?”
“No.”
“Why do you think that is?”
“I—” what have I gotten myself into?
“It’s been three months since you left your daddy’s mansion on the Geldstraat. Why do you suppose your sojourn in the Barrel has been so blessed?”
“Lucky, I guess?” Wylan suggested weakly.
Jesper snorted, and Wylan tried to ignore him. “Kaz is your luck, merchling. He’s had you under Dregs protection—though you’re so useless, up until this minute none of us could figure out why.”
“It was perplexing.” Nina said.
“Kaz always has his reasons,” murmured Inej.
“Why did you move out of your father’s house?” Jesper asked.
“It was time,” Wylan said tightly. Don’t say any more. If they find out, they’ll hurt you.
“Idealist? Romantic? Revolutionary?”
“Idiot?” suggested Nina. “No one chooses to live in the Barrel if he has another option.”
“I’m not useless,” Wylan said.
“Raske is the better demo man—” Inej began. Wylan interrupted her. My one piece of saving grace.
“I’ve been to the Ice Court. With my father. We went to an embassy dinner. I can help with the plans.”
“See that? Hidden depths.” Brekker tapped his fingers over the crow’s head of his cane. “And I don’t want our only leverage against Van Eck cooling his heels in Ketterdam while we head north. Wylan goes with us. He’s good enough at demo, and he’s got a fine hand for sketching, thanks to all those pricey tutors.”
Wylan flushed red. Again. Thanks, Brekker.
Jesper shook his head. “Play piano, too?”
“Flute.” Wylan said, feeling defensive.
“Perfect.”
“And since Wylan has seen the Ice Court with his very own eyes,” Brekker continued, “he can help keep you honest, Helvar.”
The Fjerdan scowled furiously. Wylan felt like he might throw up.
“Don’t worry,” Nina said. “The glower isn’t lethal.”
Wylan watched Jesper rub his eyes. The boy looked exhausted. Wylan felt a twinge of sympathy for a moment, until Brekker spoke again. “Get out your proper pen and paper, Wylan. Let’s put Helvar to work.”
Wylan picked up his satchel, with his favorite pen and ink set and some butcher’s paper.
“How nice,” Jesper said, and Wylan felt like snapping at him. “A nib for every occasion.”
“Start talking. It’s time to pay the rent.” Brekker said to Helvar.
Wylan waited.
Finally, Helvar shut his eyes, took a deep breath, and began talking. Wylan sketched it in, letting Helvar’s words fill his mind and take shape on the paper in lines, curls, and dots.
The flow of words was interrupted by Jesper leaning in, much too close for comfort. “That doesn’t look like a tree, it looks like a cake.”
“Well, it is sort of like a cake. The whole thing is built on a rise.”
Helvar continued. Wylan felt a hitch in the words and registered what it was. Helvar had misnumbered the checkpoints. “Two checkpoints. When I was there, there were two.”
“There you have it. Marketable skills. Wylan is watching you, Helvar,” Brekker said.
“Why two checkpoints?” Inej asked.
“It’s harder to bribe two sets of guards. The security at the Ice Court is always built with multiple fail-safes. If you make it that far—”
“We, Helvar. If we make it that far,” corrected Brekker, and Wylan wanted to throttle him. They all kept interrupting the flow.
Helvar finally continued. “If we make it that far…”
Wylan listened to the ebb and flow of words. Jesper interrupted again.
“What determines which gate is used?”
Wylan listened, drawing lines and markers to show what they were saying. He wished he could write it down. Four guards. He drew four men standing around each gate. Black Protocol. Just what are we getting into?
Helvar pointed to a place on the map. “Probably here. The prison sector. The high security cells are on the topmost floor. It’s where they keep the most dangerous criminals. Assassins, terrorists—”
“Grisha?” Nina asked.
“Exactly,” he replied. Wylan detected a grimness to his voice.
Helvar and Brekker argued over whether Yul-Bayur would be alive. Wylan scribbled in further details.
“Hringkälla is coming,” Nina said.
Wylan pressed his lips together as the three of them continued to argue over his head. He’d heard of Hringkälla. When he was young, before his father had given up, his father had said they’d go and see the Fjerdan festival for themselves someday. He tucked his chin down further as Jesper spoke.
“I thought Fjerdans didn’t go for that sort of thing.”
Helvar, Nina, and Brekker continued to argue.
Finally, they shut up, and Brekker was deep in thought.
A moment later, Jesper leaned over to Inej.
“Scheming face?”
Wylan’s lip twitched.
“Definitely.” Inej replied.
“Is the White Rose sending a delegation?” Kaz asked.
“I didn’t hear anything about it.”
“Even if we go straight to Djerholm, we’ll need most of a week to travel,” Inej said. “There isn’t time to secure documents or create a cover that will bear up under scrutiny.”
“We’re not going in through the embassy,” Brekker said. “Always hit where Mark isn’t looking.”
Wylan looked up, confused. “Who’s Mark?” He flushed when Jesper laughed at him again.
“Oh Saints, you are something. The mark, the pigeon, the cozy, the fool you’re looking to fleece.”
Wylan felt indignation rise. “I may not have had your… education, but I’m sure I know plenty of words that you don’t.”
“Also the proper way to fold a napkin and dance a minuet,” Jesper said, and Wylan felt like throttling him. “Oh, and you can play the flute. Marketable skills, merchling. Marketable skills.”
“No one dances the minuet anymore,” Wylan grumbled.
“What’s the easiest way to steal a man’s wallet?” Brekker asked.
“Knife to the throat?” asked Inej.
“Gun to the back?” said Jesper.
“Poison in his cup?” suggested Nina.
“You’re all horrible,” said Helvar.
Brekker rolled his eyes. “The easiest way to steal a man’s wallet is to tell him you’re going to steal his watch. You take his attention and direct it where you want it to go. Hringkälla is going to do that job for us. The Ice Court will have to divert resources to monitoring guests and protecting the royal family. They can’t be looking everywhere at once. It’s the perfect opportunity to spring Bo Yul-Bayur.” Kaz pointed to the prison gate in the ring wall. “Remember what I told you at Hellgate, Nina?”
“It’s hard to keep track of all your wisdom.”
“At the prison, they won’t care about who’s coming in, just anyone trying to get out.” His gloved finger slide sideways to the next sector. “At the embassy they won’t care who’s going out, they’ll just be focused on who’s trying to get in. We enter through the prison, leave through the embassy. Helvar, is the Elderclock functional?”
Helvar nodded. “It chimes every quarter hour. It’s also how the alarm protocols are sounded.”
“It’s accurate?”
“Of course.”
“Quality Fjerdan engineering,” Nina said sourly.
Brekker ignored her. “Then we’ll use the Elderclock to coordinate our movements.”
“Will we enter disguised as guards?” The question had been gnawing at Wylan. He bristled at the disdain in Jesper’s answer.
“Only Nina and Matthias speak Fjerdan.”
“I speak Fjerdan,” Wylan protested.
“Schoolroom Fjerdan, right? I bet you speak Fjerdan about as well as I speak moose.”
“Moose is probably your native tongue,” Wylan muttered.
“We enter as we are,” Brekker said, silencing the argument. “As criminals. The prison is our front door.”
“Let me get this straight. You want us to let the Fjerdans lock us in jail. Isn’t that what we’re always trying to avoid?” Jesper asked.
“Criminal identities are slippery. It’s one of the perks of being a member of the troublemaking class. They’ll be counting heads at the prison gate, looking at names and crimes, not checking passports or examining embassy seals.”
“Because no one wants to go to prison,” Jesper said.
Nina rubbed her hands over her arms. “I don’t want to be locked up in a Fjerdan cell.”
Brekker flicked his sleeve, and two slender rods of metal appeared between his fingers. They danced over his knuckles, then vanished once more.
“Lockpicks?” Nina asked.
“You let me take care of the cells,” Brekker said.
“Hit where the mark isn’t looking,” Inej said, and Wylan winced, though he quickly realized her words weren’t a jab at him.
“The Ice Court is like any other mark, one big white pigeon ready for the plucking.”
“Will Yul-Bayur come willingly?” Inej asked.
“Van Eck said the Council gave Yul-Bayur a code word when they first tried to get him out of Shu Han so he’d know who to trust: Sesh-uyeh .”
Wylan furrowed his brow, rolling the word through his mind. Imagining the picture it would paint. “ Sesh-uyeh. What does it mean?”
Nina’s reply was distant. “Heartsick.”
“This can be done. And we’re the ones to do it,” Brekker’s voice was sure. Wylan’s posture lifted, feeling the mood shift, like switching from a minor to a major key. He locked eyes with Jesper, and the anticipation in the darker boy’s gaze made him smile.
“You have no idea what you’re up against.” Helvar’s arms were folded across his chest.
“But you do, Helvar. I want you working on the plan of the Ice Court every minute until we sail. No detail is too small or inconsequential. I’ll be checking on you regularly.”
Wylan sank slightly in his seat again. He’d spend all night with Helvar. Which wouldn’t have been too bad an idea, if it weren’t for the Fjerdan’s chronically sour mood.
“It really does look like the rings of a tree.” Inej’s arm was in front of Wylan, her fingers tracing the circles of the Ice Court.
“No,” said Brekker. “It looks like a target.”
Wylan pressed his lips together as he overheard Brekker talking to Jesper as he dismissed them. “Keep Wylan out of trouble.”
“Why me?”
“You’re unlucky enough to be in my line of sight, and I don’t want any sudden reconciliations between father and son before we set sail.”
Wylan snorted, images of blood flashing in his mind. “You don’t need to worry about that.”
“I worry about everything, merchling. That’s why I’m still alive. And you can keep an eye on Jesper, too.”
“On me?”
Wylan watched Brekker unlock a safe hidden behind a panel. “Yes, you.” He thumbed through stacks of kruge, handing a slender stack to Jesper. “This is for bullets, not bets. Wylan, make sure his feet don’t mysteriously find their way into a gambling den on his way to buy ammunition, understood?”
“I don’t need a nursemaid,” Jesper snapped.
“More like a chaperone, but if you want him to wash your nappies and tuck you in at night, that’s your business.” Wylan hid his smile as Brekker handed him money for explosives. “Stock up for the journey only. If this works the way I think it will, we’re going to have to enter the Ice Court empty handed.”
Wylan swallowed, turning his attention back to his map as they continued discussing travel plans.
He looked up as Brekker said his name. “You and I are going to have a chat. I want to know everything about your father’s trading company.”
Wylan shrugged. “I don’t know much. He doesn’t include me in those discussions.”
“You’re telling me you’ve never snooped around his office? Looked through his documents?”
“No.” Ghezen knows how much good that would’ve done.
“What did I tell you? Useless.” Jesper said cheerfully. Wylan stuck his tongue out at him.