Crooked Kingdom (45 page)

“Oh,” said Matthias. “I knew that.”

“You did not.”

“You think Fjerda isn't aware the Ravkan coffers are empty?”

Nina scowled. “You could have at least pretended to be surprised.”

“Ravka's financial woes are no secret. Its treasury was depleted from years of mismanagement by the Lantsov kings and fighting on both of its borders. The civil war didn't help, and the new king has borrowed heavily from the Kerch banks. If we go through with the auction, Ravka won't be able to bid competitively.”

Kaz shifted his bad leg. “That's why the Kerch Merchant Council is going to bankroll them.”

Jesper burst out laughing. “Fantastic. Any chance they want to buy me a solid-gold bowler hat while they're at it?”

“That's unlawful,” said Wylan. “The Council are responsible for running the auction. They can't interfere with its outcome.”

“Of course not,” said Kaz. “And they know it. Kuwei and his father approached the Merchant Council looking for aid, but they were so afraid of compromising their neutrality, they refused to act. Van Eck saw an opportunity, and he's been operating behind their backs ever since.” Kaz settled more deeply in his chair. “What has Van Eck been planning all along? He's been buying up
jurda
farms so that when the secret of
jurda parem
is unleashed, he'll control the
jurda
supply. He wins no matter who has Kuwei. So think like him—think like a merch. When Kuwei Yul-Bo, son of Bo Yul-Bayur, announces the auction, the Council will know the secret of
parem
could become public at any time. They'll finally be free to act and they'll be looking for opportunities to secure their fortunes and Kerch's position in the world economy. They can't involve themselves in the auction, but they can guarantee they make a lot of money whatever the outcome.”

“By buying up
jurda
,” said Wylan.

“Exactly. We set up a
jurda
consortium, a chance for willing investors to make a fine dime off the world going to hell. We bring the Council an opportunity and let their greed do the rest.”

Wylan nodded, his face growing eager. “The money never goes to the consortium. We funnel it to Ravka so they can afford to bid on Kuwei.”

“Something like that,” said Kaz. “And we take a little percentage. Just like the banks do.”

“But who's going to shill?” Jesper said. “Van Eck has seen all our faces except Nina and Specht. Even if one of us somehow got tailored or we brought on another person, the Merchant Council isn't just going to turn over their money to a newcomer with no real credentials.”

“How about a
jurda
farmer who's been holed up in the most expensive suite in Ketterdam?”

Colm Fahey looked up from his coffee. “Me?”

“No way, Kaz,” said Jesper. “Absolutely not.”

“He knows
jurda
, he speaks Kerch and Zemeni, and he looks the part.”

“He has an honest face,” Jesper said bitterly. “You weren't keeping him safe stashing him in this hotel, you were setting him up.”

“I was building us an out.”

“A hedge of your own?”

“Yes.”

“You are not bringing my father into this.”

“He's already in it, Jes. You brought him into it when you had him mortgage his farm to pay for your degree in wasting money.”

“
No
,” repeated Jesper. “Van Eck is going to make the connection between Colm Fahey and Jesper Fahey. He isn't an idiot.”

“But there is no Colm Fahey staying at the Geldrenner. Colm Fahey rented rooms at a little university district inn, and according to the harbormaster's manifests, he left town several nights ago. The man staying here is registered under the name Johannus Rietveld.”

“Who the hell is that?” asked Nina.

“He's a farmer from a town near Lij. His family's been there for years. He has holdings in Kerch and in Novyi Zem.”

“But who is he really?” said Jesper.

“That doesn't matter. Think of him as a figment of the Merchant Council's imagination, a wonderful dream come to life to help them scrape some profit from the disaster of
parem
.”

Colm put his cup down. “I'll do it.”

“Da, you don't know what you're agreeing to.”

“I'm already harboring fugitives. If I'm going to aid, I may as well abet.”

“If this goes wrong—”

“What do I have to lose, Jes? My life is you and the farm. This is the only way I can protect both of those things.”

Jesper shoved off from the floor, pacing back and forth in front of the windows. “This is insanity,” he said, scrubbing his hand over the back of his neck. “They'll never fall for it.”

“We don't ask for too much from any of them,” said Kaz. “That's the trick. We set a low floor to enter the fund, say, two million
kruge
. And then we let them wait. The Shu are here. The Fjerdans. The Ravkans. The Council will start to panic. If I had to bet, I'd say we'll have five million from each Council member by the time we're through.”

“There are thirteen Council members,” said Jesper. “That's sixty-five million
kruge
.”

“Maybe more.”

Matthias frowned. “Even with all the
stadwatch
at the auction and the presence of the Council of Tides, can we really guarantee Kuwei's safety?”

“Unless you have a unicorn for him to ride away on, there is no scenario that
guarantees
Kuwei's safety.”

“I wouldn't count on protection from the Council of Tides either,” said Nina. “Have they ever even appeared in public?”

“Twenty-five years ago,” said Kaz.

“And you think they're going to show up to protect Kuwei now? We can't send him into a public auction alone.”

“Kuwei won't be alone. Matthias and I will be with him.”

“Everyone there knows your faces. Even if you had some kind of disguise—”

“No disguise. The Merchant Council are considered his representatives. But Kuwei has the right to choose his own protection for the auction. We'll be up there on the stage with him.”

“The stage?”

“Auctions are held at the Church of Barter, right in front of the altar. What could be more holy? It's perfect—an enclosed space with multiple points of entry and easy access to a canal.”

Nina shook her head. “Kaz, as soon as Matthias steps on that stage, half the Fjerdan delegation will recognize him, and you're the most wanted man in Ketterdam. If you show up at that auction, you'll both be arrested.”

“They can't touch us until after the auction.”

“And then what?” said Inej.

“There's going to be one hell of a distraction.”

“There has to be another way,” said Jesper. “What if we tried making a deal with Rollins?”

Wylan pleated the edge of his napkin. “We don't have anything to offer.”

“No more deals,” said Kaz. “I never should have gone to Rollins in the first place.”

Jesper's brows rose. “Are you actually admitting you made a mistake?”

“We needed capital,” Kaz said. His eyes slid briefly to Inej. “And I'm not sorry for it, but it wasn't the right move. The trick to beating Rollins is never sit down at the table with him. He's the house. He has the resources to play until your luck runs out.”

“All the same,” said Jesper. “If we're going up against the Kerch government, the gangs of the Barrel, and the Shu—”

“And the Fjerdans,” added Matthias. “And the Zemeni, and the Kaelish, and whoever else shows up when the auction is announced. The embassies are full and we don't know how far the rumors of
parem
have reached.”

“We're going to need help,” said Nina.

“I know,” said Kaz, straightening his sleeves. “That's why I'm going to the Slat.”

Jesper stopped moving. Inej shook her head. They all stared.

“What are you talking about?” said Nina. “There's a price on your head. Everyone in the Barrel knows it.”

“You saw Per Haskell and the Dregs down there,” said Jesper. “You think you can talk the old man into propping you up when the whole city is about to come down on you like a sack of bricks? You know he doesn't have the stones for that.”

“I know,” said Kaz. “But we need a bigger crew for this job.”

“
Demjin
, this is not a risk worth taking,” said Matthias, surprised to find he actually meant it.

“When this is all over, when Van Eck has been put in his place, when Rollins goes running, and the money is paid, these will still be my streets. I can't live in a city where I can't hold up my head.”

“If you have a head to hold up,” said Jesper.

“I've taken knives, bullets, and too many punches to count, all for a little piece of this town,” said Kaz. “This is the city I bled for. And if Ketterdam has taught me anything, it's that you can always bleed a little more.”

Nina reached for Matthias' hand. “The Grisha are still stuck at the embassy, Kaz. I know you don't give a damn, but we have to get them out of the city. And Jesper's father. All of us. No matter who wins the auction, Van Eck and Pekka Rollins aren't going to just pack up and go home. Neither will the Shu.”

Kaz rose, leaning on his crow's head cane. “But I know the one thing this city is more frightened of than the Shu, the Fjerdans, and all the gangs of the Barrel put together. And Nina, you're going to give it to them.”

 

26

K
AZ

Kaz sat in that chair for what felt like hours, answering their questions, letting the pieces of the plan shift into place. He saw the scheme's final shape in his mind, the steps it would take to get them there, the infinite ways they might falter or be found out. It was a mad, spiky monster of a plan, and that was what it had to be for them to succeed.

Johannus Rietveld.
He'd told a kind of truth. Johannus Rietveld had never existed. Kaz had used Jordie's middle name and their shared family name to create the farmer's identity years ago.

He wasn't certain why he'd purchased the farm where he'd grown up or why he'd continued to make trades and acquire property under the Rietveld name. Was Johannus Rietveld meant to be his Jakob Hertzoon? A respectable identity like the one Pekka Rollins had crafted to better dupe gullible pigeons? Or had it been some way of resurrecting the family he'd lost? Did it even matter? Johannus Rietveld existed on paper and in bank records, and Colm Fahey was perfect to play the role.

When the meeting finally broke apart, the coffee had gone cold and it was nearly noon. Despite the bright light streaming through the windows, they would all try to get a few hours' rest. He could not.
We don't stop.
Kaz's whole body ached with exhaustion. His leg had ceased throbbing and now it just radiated pain.

He knew how damnably stupid he was being, how unlikely it was that he'd return from the Slat. Kaz had spent his life in a series of dodges and feints. Why come at a problem straight on when you could find some other way to approach? There was always an angle, and he was an expert at finding it. Now he was about to go stomping ahead like an ox yoked to a plow. Odds were good he'd end up beaten, bloodied, and dragged through the Barrel straight to Pekka Rollins' front stoop. But they'd landed in a trap, and if he had to chew his paw off to get them out of it, then that was what he would do.

First he had to find Inej. She was in the suite's lavish white-and-gold bathroom, seated at a vanity table, cutting fresh bandages from the towels.

He strode past her and removed his coat, tossing it onto the sink, beside the basin. “I need your help plotting a route to the Slat.”

“I'm coming with you.”

“You know I have to face them alone,” he said. “They'll be looking for any sign of weakness, Wraith.” He turned the spigots, and after a few creaking groans, steaming water poured from the tap. Maybe when he was rolling in
kruge
he'd have running hot water installed in the Slat. “But I can't approach at street level.”

“You shouldn't approach at all.”

He stripped off his gloves and dunked his hands in the water, then splashed it over his face, running his fingers through his hair. “Talk me through the best route or I'll find my own way there.”

He would have preferred to walk instead of climb. Hell, he'd have preferred to be driven there in a carriage-and-four. But if he tried to make it through the Barrel on the streets, he'd be captured before he got anywhere near the Slat. Besides, if he had any chance of making this work, he needed the high ground.

He dug in his coat pockets and held up the tourist map of Ketterdam he'd found in the suite's parlor. It didn't have as much detail as he would have liked, but their real maps of the city had been left on Black Veil.

They laid the map beside the basin and bent to the task as Inej drew a line through the rooftops, describing the best places to cross the canals.

At one point she tapped the map. “This way is faster, but it's steeper.”

“I'll take the long way,” said Kaz. He wanted his mind on the fight ahead and avoiding notice, not on the chance he was going to tumble to his death.

When he was satisfied he could follow the route from memory, he tucked the map away and took another paper from his pocket. It bore the pale green seal of the Gemensbank. He handed it to her.

“What is this?” she asked, her eyes scanning the page. “It's not…” She ran her fingertips over the words as if expecting them to vanish. “My contract,” she whispered.

“I don't want you beholden to Per Haskell. Or me.” Another half-truth. His mind had concocted a hundred schemes to bind her to him, to keep her in this city. But she'd spent enough of her life caged by debts and obligations, and it would be better for them both when she was gone.