Crooked Kingdom

  Inej wasn’t sure she’d heard correctly. “Your father?”

  “Yup. Family reunion in Ketterdam,” said Jesper. “Everyone’s invited.”

  Inej wasn’t fooled by Jesper’s airy tone. “The loan?”

  His hands returned to his revolvers. “Yeah. So I’d really like to know just how we intend to settle this score.”

  Kaz shifted his weight on his cane. “Have any of you wondered what I did with all the cash Pekka Rollins gave us?”

  Inej’s gut clenched. “You went to Pekka Rollins for a loan?”

  “I would never go into debt with Rollins. I sold him my shares in Fifth Harbor and the Crow Club.”

  No. Kaz had built those places from nothing. They were testaments to what he’d done for the Dregs. “Kaz—”

  “Where do you think the money went?” he repeated.

  “Guns?” asked Jesper.

  “Ships?” queried Inej.

  “Bombs?” suggested Wylan.

  “Political bribes?” offered Nina. They all looked at Matthias. “This is where you tell us how awful we are,” she whispered.

  He shrugged. “They all seem like practical choices.”

  “Sugar,” said Kaz.

  Jesper nudged the sugar bowl down the table to him.

  Kaz rolled his eyes. “Not for my coffee, you podge. I used the money to buy up sugar shares and placed them in private accounts for all of us—under aliases, of course.”

  “I don’t like speculation,” said Matthias.

  “Of course you don’t. You like things you can see. Like piles of snow and benevolent tree gods.”

  “Oh, there it is!” said Inej, resting her head on Nina’s shoulder and beaming at Matthias. “I missed his glower.”

  “Besides,” Kaz said, “it’s hardly speculation if you know the outcome.”

  “You know something about the sugar crop?” Jesper asked.

  “I know something about the supply.”

  Wylan sat up straighter. “The silos,” he said. “The silos at Sweet Reef.”

  “Very good, merchling.”

  Matthias shook his head. “What’s Sweet Reef?”

  “It’s an area just south of Sixth Harbor,” said Inej. She remembered the view of the vast silos towering over the warehouse district. They were the size of small mountains. “It’s where they keep molasses, raw cane, and the processing plants to refine sugar. We were right near there today. That wasn’t a coincidence, was it?”

  “No,” said Kaz. “I wanted you to get a look at the terrain. Most sugar cane comes from the Southern Colonies and Novyi Zem, but there won’t be another crop until three months from now. This season’s crop has already been harvested, processed, refined, and stored in the Sweet Reef silos.”

  “There are thirty silos,” said Wylan. “My father owns ten of them.”

  Jesper whistled. “Van Eck controls one-third of the world’s sugar supply?”

  “He owns the silos,” said Kaz, “but only a fraction of the sugar inside them. He maintains the silos at his own expense, supplies guards for them, and pays the Squallers who monitor the humidity inside the silos to make sure the sugar stays dry and separated. The merchants who own the sugar pay him a small percentage of every one of their sales. It adds up quickly.”

  “Such enormous wealth under one man’s protection,” Matthias considered. “If anything were to happen to those silos, the price of sugar—”

  “Would go off like a cheap pair of six-shooters,” Jesper said, popping to his feet and starting to pace.

  “The price would climb and keep climbing,” said Kaz. “And as of a few days ago, we own shares in the companies that don’t store sugar with Van Eck. Right now, they’re worth about what we paid for them. But once we destroy the sugar in Van Eck’s silos—”

  Jesper was bouncing on the balls of his feet. “Our shares will be worth five—maybe ten—times what they are now.”

  “Try twenty.”

  Jesper hooted. “Don’t mind if I do.”

  “We could sell at a huge profit,” said Wylan. “We’d be rich overnight.”

  Inej thought of a sleek schooner, weighted with heavy cannon. It could be hers. “Thirty million kruge rich?” she asked. The reward Van Eck owed them for the Ice Court job. One he’d never intended to pay.

  The barest smile ghosted over Kaz’s lips. “Give or take a million.”

  Wylan was gnawing on his thumbnail. “My father can weather a loss. The other merchants, the ones who own the sugar in his silos, will be hit worse.”

  “True,” said Matthias. “And if we destroy the silos, it will be clear Van Eck was targeted.”

  “We could try to make it look like an accident,” suggested Nina.

  “It will,” said Kaz. “Initially. Thanks to the weevil. Tell them, Wylan.”

  Wylan sat forward like a schoolboy eager to prove he had the answers. He drew a vial from his pocket. “This version works.”

  “It’s a weevil?” Inej asked, examining it.

  “A chemical weevil,” said Jesper. “But Wylan still hasn’t named it. My vote is for the Wyvil.”

  “That’s terrible,” said Wylan.

  “It’s brilliant.” Jesper winked. “Just like you.”

  Wylan blushed daylily pink.

  “I helped as well,” added Kuwei, looking sulky.

  “He did help,” Wylan said.

  “We’ll make him a plaque,” said Kaz. “Tell them how it works.”

  Wylan cleared his throat. “I got the idea from cane blight—just a little bit of bacteria can ruin a whole crop. Once the weevil is dropped into the silo, it will keep burrowing down, using the refined sugar as fuel until the sugar is nothing but useless mush.”

  “It reacts to sugar?” asked Jesper.

  “Yes, any kind of sugar. Even trace amounts if there’s enough moisture present, so keep it away from sweat, blood, saliva.”

  “Do not lick Wyvil. Does someone want to write that down?”

  “Those silos are huge,” said Inej. “How much will we need?”

  “One vial for each silo,” Wylan said.

  Inej blinked at the small glass tube. “Truly?”

  “Tiny and ferocious,” Jesper said. He winked again. “Just like you.”

  Nina burst out laughing, and Inej couldn’t help returning Jesper’s grin. Her body ached and she would have liked to sleep for two days straight, but she felt some part of herself uncoiling, releasing the terror and anger of the last week.

  “The weevil will make the destruction of the sugar look like an accident,” said Wylan.

  “It will,” said Kaz, “until the other merchants learn that Van Eck has been buying up sugar that isn’t stored in his silos.”

  Wylan’s eyes widened. “What?”

  “I used half of the money for our shares. I used the rest to purchase shares on behalf of Van Eck—well, on behalf of a holding company created under Alys’ name. Couldn’t make it too obvious. The shares were purchased in cash, untraceable. But the certificates authenticating their purchase will be found stamped and sealed at his attorney’s office.”

  “Cornelis Smeet,” Matthias said, in surprise. “Deception upon deception. You weren’t just trying to figure out where Alys Van Eck was being kept when you broke into his office.”

  “You don’t win by running one game,” said Kaz. “Van Eck’s reputation will take a hit when the sugar is lost. But when the people who paid him to keep it safe find out he profited from their loss, they’ll look more closely at those silos.”

  “And find the remnants of the weevil,” finished Wylan.

  “Destruction of property, tampering with the markets,” Inej murmured. “It will be the end of him.” She thought of Van Eck gesturing to his lackey to take up the mallet. I don’t want it to be a clean break. Shatter the bone. “Could he go to prison?”

  “He’ll be charged with violating a contract and attempting to interfere with the market,” said Kaz. “There is no greater crime acc
ording to Kerch law. The sentences are the same as for murder. He could hang.”

  “Will he?” Wylan said softly. He used his finger to draw a line across the map of Ketterdam, all the way from Sweet Reef to the Barrel, then on to the Geldstraat, where his father lived. Jan Van Eck had tried to kill Wylan. He’d cast him off like refuse. But Inej wondered if Wylan was ready to doom his father to execution.

  “I doubt he’ll swing,” said Kaz. “My guess is they’ll saddle him with a lesser charge. None of the Merchant Council will want to put one of their own on the gallows. As for whether or not he’ll actually ever see the inside of a jail cell?” He shrugged. “Depends on how good his lawyer is.”

  “But he’ll be barred from trade,” said Wylan, his voice almost dazed. “His holdings will be seized to make good on the lost sugar.”

  “It will be the end of the Van Eck empire,” Kaz said.

  “What about Alys?” asked Wylan.

  Again Kaz shrugged. “No one is going to believe that girl had anything to do with a financial scheme. Alys will sue for divorce and probably move back in with her parents. She’ll cry for a week, sing for two, and then get over it. Maybe she’ll marry a prince.”

  “Or maybe a music teacher,” Inej said, remembering Bajan’s panic when he heard Alys had been abducted.

  “There’s just one small problem,” said Jesper, “and by small, I mean ‘huge, glaring, let’s scrap this and go get a lager.’ The silos. I know we’re all about breaching the unbreachable, but how are we supposed to get inside?”

  “Kaz can pick the locks,” said Wylan.

  “No,” said Kaz, “I can’t.”

  “I don’t think I’ve ever heard those words leave your lips,” said Nina. “Say it again, nice and slow.”

  Kaz ignored her. “They’re quatrefoil locks. Four keys in four locks turned at the same time or they trigger security doors and an alarm. I can pick any lock, but I can’t pick four at once.”

  “Then how do we get in?” Jesper asked.

  “The silos also open at the top.”

  “Those silos are nearly twenty stories high! Is Inej going to go up and down ten of them in one night?”

  “Just one,” said Kaz.

  “And then what?” said Nina, hands back on her hips and green eyes blazing.

  Inej remembered the towering silos, the gaps between them.

  “And then,” said Inej, “I’m going to walk a high wire from one silo to the next.”

  Nina threw her hands in the air. “And all of it without a net, I suppose?”

  “A Ghafa never performs with a net,” Inej said indignantly.

  “Does a Ghafa frequently perform twenty stories above cobblestones after being held prisoner for a week?”

  “There will be a net,” said Kaz. “It’s in place behind the silo guardhouse already, under a stack of sandbags.”

  The silence in the tomb was sudden and complete. Inej couldn’t believe what she was hearing. “I don’t need a net.”

  Kaz consulted his watch. “Didn’t ask. We have six hours to sleep and heal up. I’ll nab supplies from the Cirkus Zirkoa. They’re camped on the western outskirts of town. Inej, make a list of what you’ll need. We hit the silos in twenty-four hours.”

  “Absolutely not,” said Nina. “Inej needs to rest.”

  “That’s right,” Jesper agreed. “She looks thin enough to blow away in a stiff breeze.”

  “I’m fine,” said Inej.

  Jesper rolled his eyes. “You always say that.”

  “Isn’t that how things are done around here?” asked Wylan. “We all tell Kaz we’re fine and then do something stupid?”

  “Are we that predictable?” said Inej.

  Wylan and Matthias said in unison, “Yes.”

  “Do you want to beat Van Eck?” Kaz asked.

  Nina blew out an exasperated breath. “Of course.”

  Kaz’s eyes scanned the room, moving from face to face. “Do you? Do you want your money? The money we fought, and bled, and nearly drowned for? Or do you want Van Eck to be glad he picked a bunch of nobodies from the Barrel to scam? Because no one else is going to get him for us. No one else is going to care that he cheated us or that we risked our lives for nothing. No one else is going to make this right. So I’m asking, do you want to beat Van Eck?”

  “Yes,” said Inej. She wanted some kind of justice.

  “Soundly,” said Nina.

  “Around the ears with Wylan’s flute,” said Jesper.

  One by one, they nodded.

  “The stakes have changed,” said Kaz. “Based on Van Eck’s little demonstration today, wanted posters with our faces on them are probably already going up all over Ketterdam, and I suspect he’ll be offering a handsome reward. He’s trading on his credibility, and the sooner we destroy it, the better. We’re going to take his money, his reputation, and his freedom all in one night. But that means we don’t stop. Angry as he is, tonight Van Eck is going to eat a fine dinner and fall off to a fitful sleep in his soft merch bed. Those stadwatch grunts will rest their weary heads until they get to the next shift, wondering if maybe they’ll earn a little overtime. But we don’t stop. The clock is ticking. We can rest when we’re rich. Agreed?”

  Another round of nods.

  “Nina, there are guards who walk the perimeter of the silos. You’ll be the distraction, a distressed Ravkan, new to the city, looking for work in the warehouse district. You need to keep them occupied long enough for the rest of us to get inside and for Inej to scale the first silo. Then—”

  “On one condition,” said Nina, arms crossed.

  “This is not a negotiation.”

  “Everything is a negotiation with you, Brekker. You probably bartered your way out of the womb. If I’m going to do this, I want us to get the rest of the Grisha out of the city.”

  “Forget it. I’m not running a charity for refugees.”

  “Then I’m out.”

  “Fine. You’re out. You’ll still get your share of the money for your work on the Ice Court job, but I don’t need you on this crew.”

  “No,” said Inej quietly. “But you need me.”

  Kaz rested his cane across his legs. “It seems everyone is forming alliances.”

  Inej remembered the way the sun had caught the brown in his eyes only hours before. Now they were the color of coffee gone bitter in the brewing. But she was not going to back down.

  “They’re called friendships, Kaz.”

  His gaze shifted to Nina. “I don’t like being held hostage.”

  “And I don’t like shoes that pinch at the toes, but we must all suffer. Think of it as a challenge for your monstrous brain.”

  After a long pause, Kaz said, “How many people are we talking about?”

  “There are less than thirty Grisha in the city that I know of, other than the Council of Tides.”

  “And how would you like to corral them? Hand out pamphlets directing them to a giant raft?”

  “There’s a tavern near the Ravkan embassy. We use it to leave messages and exchange information. I can get the word out from there. Then we just need a ship. Van Eck can’t watch all the harbors.”

  Inej didn’t want to disagree, but it had to be said. “I think he can. Van Eck has the full power of the city government behind him. And you didn’t see his reaction when he discovered Kaz had dared to take Alys.”

  “Please tell me he actually frothed at the mouth,” said Jesper.

  “It was a close thing.”

  Kaz limped to the tomb door, staring out into the darkness. “Van Eck won’t have made the choice to involve the city lightly. It’s a risk, and he wouldn’t take that risk if he didn’t intend to capitalize on it to the fullest. He’ll have every harbor and watchtower on the coast on full alert, with orders to question anyone trying to leave Ketterdam. He’ll just claim that he knows Wylan’s captors may plan to take him from Kerch.”

  “Trying to get all of the Grisha out will be extremely dangerous,” said M
atthias. “The last thing we need is for a group of them to fall into Van Eck’s hands when he may still have a store of parem.”

  Jesper tapped his fingers on the grips of his revolvers. “We need a miracle. And possibly a bottle of whiskey. Helps lubricate the brainpan.”

  “No,” said Kaz slowly. “We need a ship. A ship that couldn’t possibly be suspect, that Van Eck and the stadwatch would never have cause to stop. We need one of his ships.”

  Nina wriggled to the edge of her chair. “Van Eck’s trading company must have plenty of ships heading to Ravka.”

  Matthias folded his huge arms, considering. “Get the Grisha refugees out on one of Van Eck’s own vessels?”

  “We’d need a forged manifest and papers of transit,” said Inej.

  “Why do you think they kicked Specht out of the navy?” Kaz asked. “He was forging leave documents and supply orders.”

  Wylan pulled on his lip. “But it’s not just a question of a few documents. Let’s say there are thirty Grisha refugees. A ship’s captain is going to want to know why thirty people—”

  “Thirty-one,” Kuwei said.

  “Are you actually following all of this?” said Jesper incredulously.

  “A ship to Ravka,” said Kuwei. “I understand that very well.”

  Kaz shrugged. “If we’re going to steal a boat, we might as well put you on it.”

  “Thirty-one it is,” said Nina with a smile, though if the muscle twitching in Matthias’ jaw was any indication, he wasn’t nearly so thrilled.

  “Okay,” said Wylan, smoothing a crease in the map. “But a ship’s captain is going to wonder why there are thirty-one people being added to his manifest.”

  “Not if the captain thinks he’s in on a secret,” said Kaz. “Van Eck will write a passionately worded letter calling upon the captain to use the utmost discretion in transporting these valuable political refugees and asking him to keep them hidden from anyone susceptible to Shu bribes—including the stadwatch—at all costs. Van Eck will promise the captain a huge reward when he returns, just to make sure he doesn’t get any ideas about selling out the Grisha. We already have a sample of Van Eck’s handwriting. We just need his seal.”

  “Where does he keep it?” Jesper asked Wylan.

  “In his office. At least that’s where it used to be.”