Six of Crows (Six of Crows, #1)

by Leigh Bardugo

Kaz Brekker didn’t need a reason.

Kaz always had his reasons. Inej could just never be sure they were good ones.

Parley. The word felt like a deception – strangely prim, an antique. No matter what street law decreed, this night smelled like violence.

“What about that?” Jesper asked, gesturing to Kaz’s walking stick. Kaz’s laugh was low and humourless. “Who’d deny a poor cripple his cane?” “If the cripple is you, then any man with sense.”

Besides, she was the Wraith – the only law that applied to her was gravity, and some days she defied that, too.

“I trade in information, Geels, the things men do when they think no one is looking. Shame holds more value than coin ever can.”

Geels looked at Kaz as if he was finally seeing him for the first time. The boy he’d been talking to had been cocky, reckless, easily amused, but not frightening – not really. Now the monster was here, dead-eyed and unafraid. Kaz Brekker was gone, and Dirtyhands had come to see the rough work done.

Geels shook his head. “There’s something wrong with you, Brekker. I don’t know what you are, but you’re not made right.” Kaz cocked his head to one side. “You’re from the suburbs, aren’t you, Geels? Came to the city to try your luck?” He smoothed his lapel with one gloved hand. “Well, I’m the kind of bastard they only manufacture in the Barrel.”

“When everyone knows you’re a monster, you needn’t waste time doing every monstrous thing.”

“Greed is your god, Kaz.” He almost laughed at that. “No, Inej. Greed bows to me. It is my servant and my lever.”

“How did you know I would get to Van Daal in time?” she asked. “Because you always do.”

but Inej was one of the best investments Kaz had ever made.

You’re a blackmailer—” “I broker information.” “A con artist—” “I create opportunity.” “A bawd and a murderer—” “I don’t run whores, and I kill for a cause.” “And what cause is that?” “Same as yours, merch. Profit.” “How do you get your information, Mister Brekker?” “You might say I’m a lockpick.”

“You see, every man is a safe, a vault of secrets and longings. Now, there are those who take the brute’s way, but I prefer a gentler approach – the right pressure applied at the right moment, in the right place. It’s a delicate thing.” “Do you always speak in metaphors, Mister Brekker?” Kaz smiled. “It’s not a metaphor.”

“Please, my darling Inej, treasure of my heart, won’t you do me the honour of acquiring me a new hat?”

“Kaz convinced Per Haskell to pay off my indenture. I would have died at the Menagerie.” “You may still die in the Dregs.” Inej’s dark eyes had glinted. “I may. But I’ll die on my feet with a knife in my hand.”

Kaz cocked his head to one side, his eyes focused on something in the distance. “Scheming face,” Jesper whispered to Inej. She nodded. “Definitely.”

Kaz leaned back. “What’s the easiest way to steal a man’s wallet?” “Knife to the throat?” asked Inej. “Gun to the back?” said Jesper. “Poison in his cup?” suggested Nina. “You’re all horrible,” said Matthias.

Kaz knocked his cane gently against Helvar’s jaw. “For every trick you’ve seen, I know a thousand more. You think a year in Hellgate hardened you up? Taught you to fight? Hellgate would have been paradise to me as a child. You move like an ox – you’d last about two days on the streets where I grew up.

“This isn’t a job for trained soldiers and spies. It’s a job for thugs and thieves. Van Eck knows it, and that’s why he brought us in.” “You can’t spend his money if you’re dead.” “I’ll acquire expensive habits in the afterlife.”

There was a Suli saying: The heart is an arrow. It demands aim to land true.

Shall I tell you the secret of true love? her father once asked her. A friend of mine liked to tell me that women love flowers. He had many flirtations, but he never found a wife. Do you know why? Because women may love flowers, but only one woman loves the scent of gardenias in late summer that remind her of her grandmother’s porch. Only one woman loves apple blossoms in a blue cup. Only one woman loves wild geraniums.

Many boys will bring you flowers. But some day you’ll meet a boy who will learn your favourite flower, your favourite song, your favourite sweet. And even if he is too poor to give you any of them, it won’t matter because he will have taken the time to know you as no one else does. Only that boy earns your heart.

Jesper could never tell how much of what Kaz got away with was smarts and planning and how much was dumb luck.

“Jesper!” I’m going to kill that little idiot. “What do you want?” he shouted down. “Close your eyes!” “You can’t kiss me from down there, Wylan.” “Just do it!” “This better be good!” He shut his eyes.

“I don’t want to die.” “I’ll do my best to make other arrangements for you.”

“Talk to me, Wraith.” “You came back for me.” “I protect my investments.” Investments. “I’m glad I’m bleeding all over your shirt.” “I’ll put it on your tab.”

Inej’s weight wasn’t helping, but when Jesper stepped into his path to offer help, Kaz shoved past him.

Kaz knew death. He could feel its presence on the ship now, looming over them, ready to take his Wraith. He was covered in her blood.

Something inside him felt frayed and raw. It was the same feeling he’d had as a boy, in those first desperate days after Jordie’s death.

Wylan reddened. “Stop calling me kid. We’re practically the same age.” “You’re not going to like the other names I come up with for you.

Kaz leaned in so that no one else could hear it when he said, “My Wraith would counsel mercy. But thanks to you, she’s not here to plead your case.” Without another word, he tipped Oomen into the sea.

Kaz replied with a time-saving gesture that relied heavily on his middle finger

But the living asked more of you than the dead.

Nina thought of the look on his face when he’d set Inej down on the table. He was the same Kaz – cold, rude, impossible – but beneath all that anger, she thought she’d seen something else, too. Or maybe she was just a romantic.

She had to laugh at herself. She wouldn’t wish love on anyone. It was the guest you welcomed and then couldn’t be rid of.

The Fjerdans didn’t believe the Grisha were human. They weren’t even on par with animals, but something low and demonic, a blight on the world, an abomination.

“You always hated my laugh.” “I loved your laugh, Nina. And your fierce warrior’s heart. I might have loved you, too.” Might have. Once. Before she had betrayed him. Those words carved an ache into her chest.

Matthias suspected that Brekker would drag the girl back from hell himself if he had to.

“Fine. But if Pekka Rollins kills us all, I’m going to get Wylan’s ghost to teach my ghost how to play the flute just so that I can annoy the hell out of your ghost.” Brekker’s lips quirked. “I’ll just hire Matthias’ ghost to kick your ghost’s ass.” “My ghost won’t associate with your ghost,” Matthias said primly, and then wondered if the sea air was rotting his brain.

“Kaz said if I proved myself I could join the Dregs when I was ready. And I did. But I didn’t take the tattoo.” Nina’s brows rose. “I didn’t think it was optional.” “Technically it isn’t. I know some people don’t understand, but Kaz told me … he said it was my choice, that he wouldn’t be the one to mark me again.”

“I don’t want your prayers,” he said. “What do you want, then?” The old answers came easily to mind. Money. Vengeance. Jordie’s voice in my head silenced forever. But a different reply roared to life inside him, loud, insistent, and unwelcome. You, Inej. You.

What had he said to Geels at the Exchange? I’m the kind of bastard they only manufacture in the Barrel. One more lie, one more piece of the myth he’d built for himself.

This was one of the things he’d liked best about Nina – she savoured everything, whether it was a toffee or cold water from a stream or dried reindeer meat.

“I’m going to pay someone to burn my kruge for me.” Kaz fell into step beside him. “Why don’t you pay someone else to pay someone to burn your kruge for you? That’s what the big players do.” “You know what the really big bosses do? They pay someone to pay someone to …”

He’d expected more complaints, but even Wylan had simply put his head down and walked. They’re all survivors, Matthias understood. They adapt.

It had started with a storm, and in a way, that storm had never ended. Nina had blown into his life with the wind and rain and set his world spinning. He’d been off balance ever since.

“Drüsje?” he called, ashamed of the fear in his voice. It was the Fjerdan word for witch, but he had no name for her. “Drüskelle!” she shouted, and then he felt his fingers brush against hers in the black water.

He continued to kick, but the muscles in his legs were tiring, and he could feel the cold creeping in on him. “Giving up already, witch?” He felt her shake off her exhaustion, and blood rushed back into his fingers and toes. “I’ll match your pace, drüskelle. If we die, it will be your burden to bear in the next life.” He had to smile a little at that. She certainly didn’t lack for spine. That much had been clear even when she was caged.

“I’ve never sent a Grisha to the pyre. Grisha are given a fair trial—” She turned on him, goggles up, tears frozen on her cheeks. “Then why has a Grisha never been found innocent at the end of your supposedly fair trials?” “I—” “Because our crime is existing. Our crime is what we are.”