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“I’m a businessman,” he’d told her. “No more, no less.” “You’re a thief, Kaz.” “Isn’t that what I just said?”
Our hopes rest with you, Mister Brekker. If you fail, all the world will suffer for it.” “Oh, it’s worse than that, Van Eck. If I fail, I don’t get paid.”
“Please, my darling Inej, treasure of my heart, won’t you do me the honor of acquiring me a new hat?”
Nina dug her fingernails into her palms. That condescending tone made Kaz so slappable.
Nina crossed her arms. “I’m mad at you, too.” “Me? Why?” “I don’t know yet. I just am.”
In fact, at eighteen, Matthias suspected that he was the oldest of the bunch. Brekker’s eyes were ancient, but he couldn’t be any older than Matthias.
“Idealist? Romantic? Revolutionary?” “Idiot?” suggested Nina. “No one chooses to live in the Barrel if he has another option.”
Kaz cocked his head to one side, his eyes focused on something in the distance. “Scheming face,” Jesper whispered to Inej. She nodded. “Definitely.”
“We’re not going in through the embassy,” said Kaz. “Always hit where the mark isn’t looking.” “Who’s Mark?” asked Wylan.
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.
“I speak Fjerdan,” Wylan protested. “Schoolroom Fjerdan, right? I bet you speak Fjerdan about as well as I speak moose.” “Moose is probably your native tongue,” mumbled Wylan.
“You can’t spend his money if you’re dead.” “I’ll acquire expensive habits in the afterlife.”
“Since when am I your valet?” “Man with a knife, remember?” he said over his shoulder. “Man with a gun!” Jesper called after him. Kaz replied with a time-saving gesture that relied heavily on his middle finger
“I’m Kaelish,” she lied, “and I can speak any language.” “More witchcraft.” “If by witchcraft, you mean the arcane practice of reading.
“The Wraith is a sixteen-year-old girl currently lying unconscious on a table. She may not even survive the night.” “She will,” said Kaz, and something savage flashed in his eyes. Matthias suspected that Brekker would drag the girl back from hell himself if he had to.
Jesper knocked his head against the hull and cast his eyes heavenward. “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.
“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.
“I’m not a criminal,” Wylan protested. Kaz had cast him an almost pitying look. “No, you’re a flautist who fell in with bad company.”
“Nina Zenik, as soon as I figure out where you’ve put my knives, we’re going to have words.” “The first ones had better be Thank you, oh great Nina, for dedicating every waking moment of this miserable journey to saving my sorry life.”
Kaz’s expression didn’t change. “Would it kill him to smile every once in a while?” Jesper asked. “Very possibly.”
“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. He shrugged and turned away. “To die buried under the weight of my own gold.”
“I probably smell like boat.” No, she smelled sweet, perfect like … “Toffee?” Her eyes slid away guiltily. “Kaz said to pack what we needed for the journey. A girl has to eat.”
“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…”
“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.” “Quit it.”
Jesper lifted a brow. “Not everyone.” “That’s only because you never have anything in your wallet,” Nina shot back. “Mean.” “Factual.”
Proper thievery aside,
“What is he doing?” asked Matthias. “Performing an ancient Zemeni ritual,” Kaz said. “Really?” “No.”
“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. “Oh, you should meet the rest of the Dregs. They make us look like Fjerdans.”
“Thank the Saints, Djel, and your Aunt Eva,” Jesper said
“Saints,” he said. Inej grimaced. “That bad?” “No, you just have really ugly feet.” “Ugly feet that got you on this roof.”
“Scheming face,” Inej murmured. Jesper nodded. “Definitely.”
A gambler, a convict, a wayward son, a lost Grisha, a Suli girl who had become a killer, a boy from the Barrel who had become something worse.
Nina snorted. “Matthias the tulip.” “The big, brooding, yellow tulip.”
“All this to be a witchhunter?” Kaz said behind him. “The Dregs need a better initiation.” “This is only one part of Hringkälla.” “Yes, I know, then a tree tells you the secret handshake.”
He needed to tell her … what? That she was lovely and brave and better than anything he deserved. That he was twisted, crooked, wrong, but not so broken that he couldn’t pull himself together into some semblance of a man for her. That without meaning to, he’d begun to lean on her, to look for her, to need her near. He needed to thank her for his new hat.
PROPER THIEVES
“Saints, Kaz, you actually look happy.” “Don’t be ridiculous,” he snapped. But there was no mistaking it. Kaz Brekker was grinning like an idiot.
“They fear you as I once feared you,” he said. “As you once feared me. We are all someone’s monster, Nina.”
“I will have you without armor, Kaz Brekker. Or I will not have you at all.”
“Then I’ll take you there. We’ll set fire to raisins or whatever you heathens do for fun.” “Zealot,” she said weakly. “Witch.” “Barbarian.”
“Scheming face,” murmured Jesper. “Definitely,” agreed Wylan.
I’m going to get my money, Kaz vowed. And I’m going to get my girl. Inej could never be his, not really, but he would find a way to give her the freedom he’d promised her so long ago.
One more thing: This book wanted to be revised to the sounds of the Black Keys, the Clash, and the Pixies, but it was born in a drafty old schoolhouse with In a Time Lapse playing on a continuous loop, and a bat flapping around the eaves. Many thanks to composer Ludovico Einaudi. And the bat.
What do you hope readers will take away from Six of Crows? A desire to commit crime. I kid. Stay in school, pay your taxes, eat kale.
