set aflame, kb [disc]

13. haircuts & home

Wylan frowned and held it up, then he grinned. "Where did you get this?"

"It's called a backless book," said Kaz as Inej took the volume and held it up for her and Elara to look at. The pages were full of ordinary sermons, but the ornate back cover hid two lenses that acted as a long glass. From Elara's point of view, she could see a close view of the gatehouse and the wagon parked in front of it.

"Four guards," Elara noted, just as Helvar had said. Two were stationed on each side of the gatehouse, and one of them was chatting with the driver of the prison wagon, who had handed him a packet of documents.

"They're the first line of defense," said Helvar. "They'll check paperwork and confirm identities, flag anyone they think requires closer scrutiny. By this time tomorrow the line going through the gates will be full of Hringkalla guests and backed up all the way to the gorge."

"By then we'll be inside," Kaz said.

"How often do the wagons run?" asked Jesper.

"It depends," said Helvar. "Usually in the morning. Sometimes in the afternoon. But I can't imagine they'll want prisoners arriving at the same time as guests."

"Then we have to be on the early wagon," Kaz said.

"Saints," Inej said as she looked through the book once more.

"Hooded, chained, and shackled?" said Jesper. "You're sure we can't go in as entertainers? I hear Wylan really kills it on the flute."

"We go in as we are," said Kaz, "as criminals."

Nina peered through the lenses of the book. "They're doing a headcount."

Matthias nodded. "If procedure hasn't changed, they'll do a quick headcount at the first checkpoint, then a second count at the next checkpoint, where they'll search the interior and undercarriage for any contraband."

"The driver is going to notice six more prisoners when he opens the door." Nina commented.

"If only I'd thought of that," Kaz said drily. "I can tell you've never picket a pocket."

"And I can tell you've never given enough thought to your haircut."

Elara held in a laugh as Kaz frowned. He ran a self-conscious hand along the side of his head, "There's nothing wrong with my haircut that can't be fixed by four million kruge."

Personally, Elara didn't think there was anything wrong with his haircut. But she wasn't about to say it out loud, either.

Jesper cocked his head to one side, "we're going to use a bunk biscuit, aren't we?"

"Exactly."

"I don't know that word, bunkbiscuit," said Matthias, running the syllables together.

Nina gave Kaz a sour look. "Neither do I. We're not as streetwise as you, Dirtyhands."

"Nor will you ever be," Kaz said easily. "Remember our friend Mark?" Wylan winced as Elara held back a cackle. "Let's say the mark is a tourist walking through the Barrel. He's heard it's a good place to get rolled, so he keeps patting his wallet, making sure it's still there, congratulating himself on just how alert and cautious he's being. Of course every time he pats his back pocket or the front of his coat, what is he doing? He's telling every thief on the Stave exactly where he keeps his scrub."

"Saints," grumbled Nina. "I've probably done that."

"Everyone does," said Inej.

Jesper raised a brow. "Not everyone."