KAZ
4 Days, 20 Hours Before THE KETTERDAM TRIAL
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It's my responsibility. My gift.
These words flitted through Kaz Brekker's mind as he forcefully wrenched himself from slumber. He'd fallen asleep at his desk again: a grave miscalculation.
Light brown eyes, familiar eyes, remained etched behind his eyelids for a second, full and unblinking. The remnants of a dream not quite shaken. And Kaz was shaken.
He stood abruptly, bad leg banging against his desk painfully. The movement sent papers cascading to the floor in lazy parables like fat snowflakes. He didn't care. He strode away from his desk and threw open the window of his upper-floor apartment, leaning on his windowsill and scattering a murder of roosting crows. Indignant caws pierced the morning air. Kaz ignored it all, breathing heavily.
Below the Slat, the street was nearly barren in the early daylight. Kaz wasn't sure what he was scanning for: a culprit, a distraction, a hapless pigeon to con. There would be none of these in the Barrel at this hour. Two old women with hooked noses and knarled fingers peered up at Kaz knowingly. A boy dressed in plain clothes crossed the street with his back to Kaz, the nape of his alabaster neck peeking between his collar and hat like a gleaming bone. Kaz lowered his head.
He needed to relax. This one hadn't been bad.
There had been a picture; a crayon drawing of stick figures, some scribbled red, some blue, some purple. It had been the work of Kaz's hands, still fat from childhood and ungloved from innocence. His mother had crouched in front of him on the kitchen tiles. She'd been watching him, whispering parting words. Young Kaz barely looked up from his drawing. He'd been old enough to preoccupy himself but too young to be preoccupied. He had wanted a snack at the time.
Who is this? His mother had asked instead when nothing had gotten through to her youngest son. She pointed to a figure on Kaz's drawing coloured cherry red. That he could understand. He'd beaten his small fist against his chest as a demonstration for her. She'd smiled, then said those words that meant nothing and amounted to nothing. Then she'd gone. Jordie had been off crying somewhere. His father, tight-lipped and pale-faced. Kaz had never been good at goodbyes.
The crows had reclustered around Kaz's open window expectantly, and he raised his head to meet their beady eyes. The scent of clover and apples lingered in his nose, no doubt residue from his dream. Kaz could still feel his mother's presence as acutely as if she were in the room with him now. No, not my mother's presence, he realized with a jolt, turning back towards the interior of his room, But someone else's.
Inej was here. Inej was here. She'd curled up on the left side of his bed, discarding the heavy blankets in favour of a simple sheet more suitable for the season. Her chest rose in time as she lay sprawled on her back. He told himself he was scanning for new scars as his eyes roamed her face; her neck; her arms. She looked a bit older, a testament to the thirteen months shed been away at sea. Her skin was more deeply bronzed than when hed last seen her, tanned by the sea-born, summer sun- the likes of which this city rarely saw.
Any Ketterdam native knew that if he wished to see sunlight, he best awake at sunrise before the rising sun crept upwards into the city's perpetual embrace of cloud. Soon, the light falling on Ketterdam would be diluted, spotted, grainy. The sky, a slate grey nearly all year round. But not now. Not yet.
A finger of golden sunlight extended across Kaz's room, colouring his desk, reaching across the wood panels of his floorboards. The rising sun pooled in the recesses of Inej's face, dipping in the hollows of her clavicles. It set her long hair aglow, dark locks gleaming like spilled ink toppled against the white of his pillow. Her face was utterly serene beneath the light's caressing touch- as if she knew it shone just for her. And how could it not? Inej had always been a creature of the sun: tipping her face back as she sat on his window ledge, climbing gabled rooves hurriedly to bask in its glow, smiling faintly during a job whenever the sky broke open. Kaz felt peculiar at the sight of her swaddled in his sheets, sleeping in his bed. It wasn't quite the satisfaction of a well-devised plan saw to completion, nor the euphoria of a successful heist. It was something warm as the sunlight bathing Inej's face in amber. For the first time in weeks, Kaz felt a sense of momentary peace. Seeing her there wasn't a promise- not like when he'd held her hand on the dock three years ago. It was more like a glimpse of a potential future. Something that could be. He wanted this to be the memory he dreamt of when he closed his eyes. This one, rather than those others. All he could do was admire her, watching appreciatively as the sun touched her skin, daring to do what he could not. He wanted this moment, this girl.
"Youre staring again, Kaz," Inej said groggily, eyes remaining shut.
Kaz composed himself. He should have felt bashful at being caught staring, but Dirtyhands rarely felt shame. The Barrel had a way of purging one's decency. "Youre the one in my bed," Kaz pointed out.
Inej propped herself on an elbow, glossy hair tumbling over one shoulder, "Wylan must have been hosting some dinner party. There were carriages lined up the driveway. I could have scaled the wall to my room, but I felt like getting some actual sleep rather than listening to the drunken singing of some wealthy merchant at all hours of the night."
Kaz should have told her about Wylan's function last night. It had completely slipped his mind. He silently scolded himself. A lot seemed to slip his mind, as of late.
"You get enough boozy sea shanties on The Wraith?" Kaz asked, limping to his desk.
"Enough for a lifetime," Inej laughed. Her voice changed then, "And you gave my old room away."
Was that a note of accusation in her tone? Should he tell her that he'd left it unoccupied for over two years? The way he'd snapped at new Dregs recruits, ordering them to find a different room without justification? It was not a spectacular room- in fact, it was barely more than a broom closet- but it had still been hers. It had been hers to him.
"Had to happen eventually," he stated simply instead, stooping to pick up his scattered papers. Inej knew better than to help.
"Well, it didn't look like you were putting much use to your bed last night anyway," Inej said.
At this, Kaz was glad his back was to Inej. He thought of her creeping into his room, finding him slumped across his desk like a fool, not even awakening at her presence. Kaz wondered briefly what she would have done if he had been in his bed.
"What bored you to sleep last night?" Inej asked.
Kaz stood, straightening his papers. He flitted through them with gloved fingers. "I wasn't bored. These forms document the recent activity of farms bordering Ketterdam. He frowned slightly, "Ive been reviewing their patterns. Nearly all of these farmers have sold their land in the past few months. I want to know why."
"Has the soil been overworked?"
"That's just it. There seems to be no indication of poor yields from prior years. Few are in dire financial standings, and none are forced. I'm still gathering information on what they sold for and whom they sold to."
"It could be nothing."
"Its never nothing," Kaz said quietly.
The silence between them was a living thing. It was tangible, twitching, impatient. It stretched its limbs; flicked its tail.
At last, Inej spoke.
"You have ink on your face."
Kaz touched his cheek self-consciously. He figured that was what happened when one used an important document as a pillow.
Inej gestured to him, "Come here."
He didn't know why he obeyed. Why his feet propelled him to her. One moment hed been at his desk, the next, standing at his bedside.
Inej knelt on his mattress, their faces now level. He watched her soundlessly as she swiped her thumb against her tongue, leaning in. Her hands found his face without hesitation, cradling it in her fingers. Gently, she rubbed at what must have been ink along his cheek, along his temple. Kaz held perfectly still beneath her touch: unbreathing, unthinking, un-drowning. There was only the sensation of her fingertips on his face, light as resting bubbles. He marvelled at how this action seemingly engrossed her full attention, concentration furrowing her dark brows in that way he'd always loved. Kaz could count each oil-black lash. And there were her lips. His treasonous eyes strayed to them recklessly, daringly. With considerable effort, he tore his attention away. A strand of hair had fallen across Inej's face. He wanted to brush it away. He wanted to-
Inej blinked free from her reverie, face freezing in an expression of mortification. She let her hands drop with haste- as if realizing whom she touched so liberally. She's embarrassed, Kaz realized.
"Another Suli affectation?" he asked lightly. Their faces were still so close.
Inej recovered, affording him a slow grin, "What? Did Mother Ketterdam never slather your face in spit as a child?"
"I've been dunked in the canals twice in my life by the ankles, does that count?"
She laughed and Kaz didnt care that it was true, didnt care that he was the subject of her amusement; because Inej was here, in his room, her laughter warmer than the sun itself. At this moment, Kaz couldnt fathom how he'd lived without hearing that sound for nearly fourteen months. Inej was here.
Inej withdrew from him then, scooting over to make room on the mattress. He accepted her invitation, sliding over to sit on the bed next to her.
She turned her face to both him and the light streaming through his window, "You're terribly dramatic, you know."
"I have a reputation to uphold."
"Ah, yes," Inej nodded knowingly, "Dirtyhands, Bastard King of the Barrel, Resident Insomniac."
"My sleep deprivation is completely consensual."
Inej's humour faded at that. "Is that what's happening here Kaz?" she asked, dark eyes rimmed with concern, "Why haven't you been sleeping?"
Leave it to the Wraith to identify his ailments immediately, even after being gone for months. Kaz remained silent, propping himself against the headboard in response. He tipped his head back, stretching his aching neck, the muscles taught from an uncomfortable slumber. Kaz let himself relax, letting himself be vulnerable in front of her. He wanted to stay here, in this moment, with his eyes closed and the sun warming his face. He felt Inej sit back too, the mattress shifting with her. Resting here felt good, and he was so, so tired. When exhaustion claimed him as it had last night, Kaz could expect consecutive dreams; hyper-focused visions of flickering still-frames, encapsulated moments long cast aside in the recesses of his mind. This had been going on for weeks. These dreams weren't dreams so much as memories. He supposed that made most of them nightmares.
His eyes remained shut as he spoke, "I remember sitting beside you like this on the Ferolind."
Their backs were positioned against the headboard, their legs stretched out on the bed. Inej's arm grazed his from shoulder to elbow.
"On that suicide job to the Ice Court," Inej reminisced, "We were so young then. Out of our depth."
Kaz opened his eyes and glanced sidelong at her, meeting her inquisitive gaze. For a second, they weren't in his attic bedroom anymore, but back on the Ferolind. Inej, a girl of sixteen again, face tight from suppressed pain, and he, a boy of seventeen, the cause of her injury. For a moment, the urban chatter outside the Slat was replaced by the ringing cries of gulls and the murmuring waves of the True Sea. Inej's unbound hair haloed her face the same way it did back then, her eyes the exact shade of brown-black. Kaz remembered the way he sought her reassurance that day; remembered telling her about his brother for the first time.
"I nearly died on that ship," Inej said softly, "And you didnt speak to me until three days after I woke up," her lips quirked upwards faintly, humourlessly.
Kaz fixed his eyes on the ceiling, watching the sunlight recede.
"Inej," he swallowed, finding the deep brown of her eyes once more. "I didnt avoid you because I was busy. Or because I didnt care." The words were iron on his tongue.
He needed her to know that. He needed her to realize-
"I know," she said simply, and somehow, Kaz knew she did.
A sharp knock sounded, shattering the spell of the moment and startling Inej. The noise was strangely jarring, and Kaz found it absurdly out of place, like the soft click of a loaded gun in a room full of people.
"Mr. Brekker, sir?" Jogn called tentatively from behind the door, "Mr. Van Eck is approaching the Crow Club. I scouted him walking down East Stave. Maybe 8 minutes from arriving at this point but he was walking rather briskly, so perhaps five? Or he couldve slowed near the market, there was quite a delay over there..." his new spider-in-training trailed off indecisively. Kaz massaged the bridge of his nose. He was young- maybe sixteen or seventeen- yet blessed with raw talent and a bold streak of brutality. Such was normally Kazs favourite type of recruit, but Jogn was a long way from Dregs material. At this rate, maybe he never would be.
"Is that all?" Kaz asked, patience wearing thin.
"Oh... should there be something else? Cause I could-"
"Return to your post, Jogn," he ordered.
Kaz and Inej fell silent, estimating the time it would take for Jogn's imperceptible footsteps to descend the stairs.
"Still so cordial with the recruits I see," Inej commented.
Kaz said nothing, sitting up from the backboard and getting out of bed. He would have to reveal the plan to Wylan and Inej in a few minutes, and his delivery had to be solid. He was internally running through the details when Inej's hand suddenly snagged his wrist.
Kaz's posture went rigid as her fingers found purchase on the exposed skin between the cuff of his shirtsleeve and the hem of his right glove.
"Stay."
Her thumb hovered over his wrist, hovered over what he was sure was his racing pulse. Kaz blinked hard, keeping the water at bay. The physical touch had been unexpected, and Kaz hadn't had time to brace himself.
"Stay with me a bit longer. Lay down next to me," Inej said with quiet earnestness, "Wylan can wait."
Wylan surely could wait- heck, he'd put the merchant through worse- but that wasn't why Kaz remained still, wasn't why he hesitated to gather Inej in his arms. His heart rate began to slow, his breathing returning to normal again. I could do it, he decided with sudden conviction. He could lay next to her, hold her close, sling his arm around her waist. He could press his forehead against her silken hair, watching each exhale disturb individual strands. Kaz could finally sleep. Because she was here, still gripping his wrist, offer hanging in the air like the ringing bells of the Church of Barter.
But suddenly, Kaz's blissful fantasies were submerged beneath the icy grip of the rising tide. Suddenly, the body he envisioned holding close was not Inej's, but Jordie's. It was the puckered, pasty skin of his brother that he clung to in the water, striving to remain afloat. The pealing bells still rang in his head, but now they bellowed an ominous chant. It was a corpse he pulled close, not her. Not Inej. Stay with me a bit longer. Lay down next to me. They were no longer her words, but Jordie's. The invitation of a glassy-eyed corpse.
Black rimmed Kaz's vision as he yanked his wrist back with vicious hostility, "What would be the point?" he snarled at her, breath coming in jagged bursts.
He registered hurt flicker across Inej's features before turning away, moving to fetch his cane before allowing himself to feel any remorse. Kaz steadied his breathing. He knew what the remark meant to her- knew that the barb stung. But every time Kaz and Inej made ground during the brief periods she visited Ketterdam; with every barrier surpassed; with every touch and every word, his and Inej's progress was swept away by the True Sea without fail. Their gradual tolerances for physical contact: claimed by the same waters that swept away Inej and her ship. Whatever thawed within Kaz when Inej was around never lasted once she left. His gloves came back on. His guard came back up. The progress of weeks, erased by the absence of months. This time, they would be together for mere days.
It wasn't fair to hold such against Inej, so he never did. He never protested when she left, never concocted a scheme to get her to stay. Inej's choice was noble, and most importantly, she was free to make it. Her freedom was what he'd fought for: what he'd always fight for. However, whatever this was- these feelings between him and Inej- Kaz knew that these were not worth fighting for. He silently chastised himself for his behaviour this morning.
Kaz opened his bedroom door, cane in hand, "Dress quickly and meet Wylan and me at the Crow Club for a briefing when you're ready. Usual table."
When Inej was here, Kaz wanted to be close to her, wanted to be something more for her. But when she was gone, when unperturbed dust collected on his windowsill and when the crows cawed futilely for their beloved Wraith, Dirtyhands saw his behaviour for what it was: weakness.