Six of Crows (Six of Crows, #1)

by Leigh Bardugo

He’d lied. He did like the way she talked.

“Do you have a different name for killing when you wear a uniform to do it?”

A sob tore from Nina’s throat. She raised her hands but she was shaking too badly to use her power to end the creature’s suffering. She turned her tear-filled eyes to the others. “I … Please, someone…” Jesper moved first. Two shots rang out, and the body fell silent. Jesper returned his pistols to their holsters. “Damn it, Jesper,” Kaz growled. “You just announced our presence for miles.” “So they think we’re a hunting party.” “You should have let Inej do it.” “I didn’t want to do it,” Inej said quietly. “Thank you, Jesper.” Kaz’s jaw ticked, but he said nothing more.

“Maybe your stay in Hellgate was too short, Matthias. There’s always more to lose.”

“Jer molle pe oonet. Enel mörd je nej afva trohem verret.” I have been made to protect you. Only in death will I be kept from this oath.

“Dragonbowl,” Nina said eagerly. “First you soak raisins in brandy, and then you turn off the lights and set them on fire.” “Why?” “To make it hard to grab them.” “What do you do once you have them?” “You eat them.” “Don’t they burn your tongue?” “Sure but—” “Then why would you—” “Because it’s fun, dummy. You know, ‘fun’? There’s a word for it in Fjerdan so you must be familiar with the term.” “I have plenty of fun.” “All right, what do you do for fun?” And that was the way they went on, sniping at each other, just like that first night in the water, keeping each other alive, refusing to acknowledge that they were growing weaker, that if they didn’t find a real town soon, they weren’t going to last much longer.

“Think how embarrassing it would be for you when you got trounced by a Fjerdan girl.” He snorted. “I’d love to see you get beaten by a girl,” she said happily. “Not in this lifetime.” “Well, I guess I won’t get to see it. I’ll just get to live the moment when I knock you on your ass.” This time he did laugh, a proper laugh that she could feel through her back. “Saints, Fjerdan, I didn’t know you could laugh. Careful now, take it slow.” “I enjoy your arrogance, drüsje.” Now she laughed. “That may be the worst compliment I’ve received.”

“That’s it, isn’t it? You don’t want to like a Grisha. You’re scared that if you laugh at my jokes or answer my questions, you might start thinking I’m human. Would that be so terrible?” “I do like you.” “What was that?” “I do like you,” he said angrily. She’d beamed, feeling a well of pleasure erupt through her. “Now, really, is that so bad?” “Yes!” he roared. “Why?” “Because you’re horrible. You’re loud and lewd and … treacherous. Brum warned us that Grisha could be charming.” “Oh, I see. I’m the wicked Grisha seductress. I have beguiled you with my Grisha wiles!” She poked him in the chest. “Stop that.” “No. I’m beguiling you.”

Nina’s voice broke off in a scream as the ice gave way beneath her feet. She threw her hands out blindly, reaching for something, anything that might stop her fall, fingers scraping over ice and rock. The drüskelle grabbed her arm, and she cried out as it was nearly wrenched from its socket. She hung there, suspended over nothing, the grip of his fingers the only thing between her and the dark mouth of the ice. For a moment, looking into his eyes, she was certain he was going to let go. “Please,” she said, tears sliding over her cheeks. He dragged her up over the edge, and slowly they crawled onto more solid ground. They lay on their backs, panting. “I was afraid … I was afraid you were going to let me go,” she managed. There was a long pause and then he said, “I thought about it. Just for a second.” Nina huffed out a little laugh. “It’s okay,” she said at last. “I would have thought about it, too.” He got to his feet and offered her his hand. “I’m Matthias.” “Nina,” she said, taking it. “Nice to make your acquaintance.”

Kaz knew, of course.

“I need a distraction!” shouted Jesper from somewhere in the storm. She heard a tinny plink. “Get down,” cried Wylan. Nina flattened her body to the snow. A boom sounded overhead, and an explosion lit the sky just to the right of the Squaller. The winds around them dropped as the Squaller was thrown off course and forced to focus on righting himself. It took the briefest second, but it was enough time for Jesper to aim his rifle and fire. A shot rang out, and the Squaller was hurtling toward the earth.

Jesper aimed between the slabs at a distant stand of trees, and Nina realized there was another Grisha there, a boy with dark hair. Before Jesper could get off a shot, the Grisha rammed a fist upward, and Jesper was thrown off his feet by a shaft of earth. He rolled as he fell and fired from the ground. The boy in the distance cried out and dropped to one knee,

She saw Inej signal to Kaz. Without a word, he positioned himself against the nearest slab and cupped his hands at his knee. The ground buckled and swayed, but he held steady as she launched herself from the cradle of his fingers in a graceful arc. She vanished over the slab without a sound. A moment later, the ground went still. “Trust the Wraith,” said Jesper.

They crouched together in a cluster as far away as the enclosure would permit. Wylan slapped his hand against the explosive and dove away, careening into Matthias and Jesper as they all covered their ears. Nothing happened. “Are you kidding me?” said Jesper. Boom. The slab exploded. Ice and bits of rock rained down over their heads. Wylan was covered in dust and wearing a slightly dazed, deliriously happy expression. Nina started to laugh. “Try to look like you knew it would work.”

Matthias shook his head. “If they’d had a Heartrender, we’d all be dead.” “It was still a close thing,” replied Inej. Jesper shouldered his rifle. “Wylan earned his keep.” Wylan gave a little jump at the sound of his name. “I did?” “Well, you made a down payment.”

He gave a rueful laugh, turning the pick over in his hands. “Wanden olstrum end kendesorum.” It was the first part of a Fjerdan saying: The water hears and understands. It sounded kind enough, but Matthias knew that Nina would be familiar with the rest of it. “Isen ne bejstrum,” she finished. The water hears and understands. The ice does not forgive.

Kaz squinted up at the big guns pointed out at the bay. “I’ve broken into banks, warehouses, mansions, museums, vaults, a rare book library, and once the bedchamber of a visiting Kaelish diplomat whose wife had a passion for emeralds. But I’ve never had a cannon shot at me.”

“Good luck hitting a skinny little schooner cutting through the waves bound for fortune and glory.” “I’ll quote you on that when a cannonball lands in my lap,” said Nina.

Or maybe they’d been scared away by the food—herring in rancid oil, stale black bread, and some kind of butter that looked distinctly mossy. Jesper looked down at his plate and moaned. “Kaz, if you want me dead, I prefer a bullet to poison.” Nina scrunched her nose. “When I don’t want to eat, you know there’s a problem.”

Kaz reached into his coat pocket. “Here,” he said and handed Jesper a slender book with an elaborate cover. “Are we going to read to each other?” “Just flip it open to the back.” Jesper opened the book and peered at the last page, puzzled. “So?” “Hold it up so we don’t have to look at your ugly face.” “My face has character. Besides—oh!” “An excellent read, isn’t it?” “Who knew I had a taste for literature?”

“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.”

Nina passed the book to Inej. “The driver is going to notice six more prisoners when he opens the door.” “If only I’d thought of that,” Kaz said drily. “I can tell you’ve never picked a pocket.” “And I can tell you’ve never given enough thought to your haircut.” Kaz frowned and ran a self-conscious hand along the side of his head.

“Remember our friend Mark?” Wylan winced.

“Facts are for the unimaginative,”

“Any other impossible feats you’d like us to accomplish?” The barest smile flickered over Kaz’s lips. “I’ll make you a list.”

“She can be anything to anyone.” “She’s best when she’s Nina.” “And who is that?” “I suspect you know better than any of us.” He crossed his huge arms. “She’s brave,” he said grudgingly. “And funny.” “Foolish. Every last thing needn’t be a joke.” “Bold,” Inej said. “Loud.” “So why do your eyes keep searching the crowd for her?” “They do not,” Matthias protested. She had to laugh at the ferocity of his scowl. He drew a finger through a pile of crumbs. “Nina is everything you say. It’s too much.” “Mmm,” Inej murmured, taking a sip from her mug. “Maybe you’re just not enough.” Before he could reply, the bell on the bakery door jingled, and Nina sailed inside, cheeks rosy, brown hair in a gorgeous tangle, and declared, “Someone needs to start feeding me sweet rolls immediately.” For all Matthias’ grumbling, Inej didn’t think she imagined the relief on his face.

“No mourners,” Jesper called as he loped off into the twilight, long legs eating up the distance easily. “No funerals,” they replied.

He slipped his lockpicks from the lining of his coat and cradled the padlock gently, almost lovingly. In seconds, it sprang open, and he shoved the bolt to the side.

She touched his shoulder briefly, and he flinched. Kaz Brekker flinched.

Inej saw him stiffen as Nina lifted her hair to accept the collar, revealing the white curve of her neck. As he fastened it around her throat, Nina met his eyes over her shoulder, and the look they exchanged could have melted miles of northern ice. Matthias moved away hurriedly. Inej almost laughed. So that was all it took to send the drüskelle scurrying and bring the boy back. Jesper was next, panting from his run back to the crossroads. He winked at her as she placed the sack over his head.

She still wanted to know how Kaz was going to lock them in. “Watch,” Inej mouthed. Kaz signaled to Inej, and she leapt down. She shut the wagon door, fastened the padlock, and slid the bolt home. A second later the opposite side of the door pushed open. Kaz had simply removed the hinges. It was a trick they’d used plenty of times when a lock was too complicated to pick quickly or they wanted to make a theft look like an inside job.

But despite the rattle of the wagon’s wheels, Inej could tell Kaz’s breathing had gotten worse—shallow, rapid pants like an animal caught in a trap. It was a sound she’d never thought to hear from him. It was because she was listening so closely that she knew the exact moment when Kaz Brekker, Dirtyhands, the bastard of the Barrel and the deadliest boy in Ketterdam, fainted.

He hated that Inej had seen him this way, that anyone had, but on the heels of that thought came another: Better it should be her. In his bones, he knew that she would never speak of it to anyone, that she would never use this knowledge against him. She relied on his reputation. She wouldn’t want him to look weak. But there was more to it than that, wasn’t there? Inej would never betray him. He knew it. Kaz felt ill. Though he’d trusted her with his life countless times, it felt much more frightening to trust her with this shame.

As the guards moved down the line, Inej helped Nina to her feet. “You okay?” Inej asked, and Kaz felt himself drawn toward her voice like water rolling downhill.

As they were led through an arch on the left, Kaz glimpsed Inej disappearing into the opposite arch with the other female prisoners. He felt a twinge in his chest, and with a disturbing jolt, he realized it was panic. She’d been the one to wake him from his stupor in the cart. Her voice had brought him back from the dark; it had been the tether he gripped and used to drag himself back to some semblance of sanity.

Jesper just grinned and whispered, “Well, we’ve managed to get ourselves locked into the most secure prison in the world. We’re either geniuses or the dumbest sons of bitches to ever breathe air.”

Get it together, Brekker, he scolded himself harshly. It didn’t help. He was going to faint again, and this would all be over. Inej had once offered to teach him how to fall. “The trick is not getting knocked down,” he’d told her with a laugh. “No, Kaz,” she’d said, “the trick is in getting back up.” More Suli platitudes, but somehow even the memory of her voice helped. He was better than this. He had to be. Not just for Jordie, but for his crew. He’d brought these people here. He’d brought Inej here. It was his job to bring them out again. The trick is in getting back up. He kept her voice in his head, repeating those words, again and again, as he stripped off his boots, his clothes, and finally his gloves.

He saw that Jesper was staring at his hands. “What were you expecting?” Kaz growled. “Claws, at least,” Jesper said, shifting his gaze to his own bony bare feet. “Possibly a spiny thumb.”

“My father used to take me everywhere with him.” “Until?” “Until what?” “Until. My father took me everywhere until I contracted terrible seasickness, until I vomited at a royal wedding, until I tried to hump the ambassador’s leg.” “The leg was asking for it.” Jesper released a bark of laughter. “Finally, a little spine.”

“Jesper,” Kaz said waving him over to the bars. “The clock is ticking.” Jesper rolled his shoulders as he approached. This kind of work usually took a lot of time, particularly because he’d never had real training. He placed his hands on either side of a single bar and concentrated on locating the purest particles of ore. “What is he doing?” asked Matthias. “Performing an ancient Zemeni ritual,” Kaz said. “Really?” “No.”

In fact, the bar he was working on looked unchanged, but he’d pulled enough iron from it that the cloud between his hands was nearly black. He bent his fingertips, and the particles spun, whirring into a tightening spiral that grew narrower and denser. Jesper dropped his hands, and a slender needle fell to the floor with a musical ping. Wylan snatched it up, holding it so the light gleamed over its dull surface. “You’re a Fabrikator,” Matthias said grimly. “Just barely.” “You either are or you aren’t,” said Wylan. “I am.”

Besides, I have other skills that bring me more pleasure and profit than this. Lots of other skills.” Wylan coughed. Flirting with him might actually be more fun than annoying him, but it was a close call.

Matthias hoisted a massive coil of rope over each shoulder. He looked surprised when Jesper managed two as well. “Grew up on a farm,” Jesper explained. “You don’t look it.” “Sure, I’m skinny,” he said as they hurried back through the stables, “but I stay drier in the rain.” “How?” “Less falls on me.” “Are all of Kaz’s associates as strange as this crew?” Matthias asked.

“Inej,” Wylan called from one of the rolling bins. “These are our clothes.” He reached in and, one after the other, pulled out Inej’s little leather slippers. Her face broke into a dazzling smile. Finally, a bit of luck. Kaz didn’t have his cane. Jesper didn’t have his guns. And Inej didn’t have her knives. But at least she had those magic slippers. “What do you say, Wraith? Can you make the climb?” “I can.” Jesper took the shoes from Wylan. “If I didn’t think these might be crawling with disease, I would kiss them and then you.”

“This isn’t … it isn’t a trick, is it?” Her voice was smaller than she wanted it to be. The shadow of something dark moved across Kaz’s face. “If it were a trick, I’d promise you safety. I’d offer you happiness. I don’t know if that exists in the Barrel, but you’ll find none of it with me.” For some reason, those words had comforted her. Better terrible truths than kind lies.

Oh, and Inej,” he said as he led her out of the salon, “don’t ever sneak up on me again.” The truth was she’d tried to sneak up on Kaz plenty of times since then. She’d never managed it. It was as if once Kaz had seen her, he’d understood how to keep seeing her.

Survival wasn’t nearly as hard as he’d thought once he left decency behind.

He quickly earned a reputation for being willing to take any job a man needed done, and the name Dirtyhands soon followed.

“You have no finesse,” a gambler at the Silver Garter once said to him. “No technique.” “Sure I do,” Kaz had responded. “I practice the art of ‘pull his shirt over his head and punch till you see blood.’”

But the cruelest discovery was Kaz’s gift for cards. It might have made him and Jordie rich. Once he learned a game, it took him mere hours to master it, and then he simply couldn’t be beaten. He could remember every hand that had been played, each bet that was made. He could keep track of the deal for up to five decks. And if there was something he couldn’t recall, he made up for it by cheating. He’d never lost his love for sleight of hand, and he graduated from palming coins to cards, cups, wallets, and watches. A good magician wasn’t much different from a proper thief. Before long, he was banned from play in every gambling hall on East Stave.