Chapter Text
The whisper came, as whispers often did, with the trade winds and the returning tides.
It may have been nearly six years, but the Bastard of the Barrel had kept one of his many young spiders watching and listening at the harbours ever since. Those spiders had taken those whispers, over the years, no matter how big or small, and reported them all back to their boss. Sometimes they were enough to make Dirtyhands disappear, leaving Ketterdam for days, weeks, even once for several months, only to return with an even darker flash in his murderous black eyes.
Nearly two years had passed, now, since the last rumour was whispered into his ear. Most people in Ketterdam had almost forgotten that the Wraith had once been a person, a girl of flesh and blood and love and dreams, and not just a legend. Most across the True Sea had forgotten the Wraith’s namesake ship, still on her noble missions to end the slave trade, had once sailed under the command of a fearsome Pirate Queen, the Sankta of the Seas.
Kaz Brekker had never once forgotten.
Shriftport came into view. Kaz leaned against the rail of the ship, narrowing his eyes as the Zemeni city rose like a waking creature from the brilliant blue of the sea.
‘You ever been to Novyi Zem before?’ Jesper asked easily, leaning his elbows on the rail alongside Kaz.
Kaz merely grunted in response. Jesper knew full well Kaz had never been to Novyi Zem. The question was rhetorical; simply Jesper’s way of letting Kaz know he was here, by his side. No matter what the outcome.
No matter how much time had passed.
Jesper seemed unperturbed by Kaz’s rudeness. He just shuffled a tinier bit closer to him, careful not to brush his arm against Kaz’s, and watched in silence as Shriftport drew closer.
Kaz had kept hope beating in his heart for as long as he could.
Hope burned bright following that first rumour, giving him the energy to cut a devastating swathe across the Wandering Isles with Jesper by his side. It continued to burn during the months he’d spent scouring Ravka, in the week at the caravan with her parents, the long days spent at the Little Palace, the King and Queen and their Grisha giving all the help they could.
Hope started to fade after then. The visit to Fjerda, meeting with a heavily Tailored Nina. The brief foray into Shu Han with Wylan and Kuwei, after a whisper about a sher-pah haunting the coast. The excursion to west Ravka, and the futile foray into the scarred remains of the Unsea. Never once had Novyi Zem arisen amongst the whispers that reached his ears.
Not a single expedition bore fruit, and the whispers and rumours faded slowly away.
But as long as he managed to survive this wretched life, Kaz would follow any rumour that whispered her name, no matter how faint, or far away it started.
They docked at Shriftport, and as usual it took far too long to disembark for Kaz’s liking. The morning had all but faded by the time he and Jesper made it onto Zemeni soil, their travelling trunks between them. They flagged down a carriage, negotiated a rate, and within the bell they were on the road travelling west.
The frontier town of Pelton was small and unassuming, about a three hour carriage ride from Jesper’s hometown of Cofton. Kaz knew Jesper planned to visit his Da for a few days once they’d searched Pelton, but Kaz didn’t think he’d join the Fahey household this time. He usually ended these fruitless searches in a mood very unsuitable for otherwise friendly company.
Jesper jumped lightly down from carriage, his purple paisley coat flaring behind him as he did. He spun in a circle, arms wide, face lifted to the hot afternoon sun above them, as Kaz disembarked with considerable more caution. As his cane hit the dusty ground, Jesper faced him again, his silver eyes sparkling.
‘Feels good to be home,’ he grinned, and Kaz just raised an eyebrow as he turned to the carriage to get their trunks.
‘You’re several hours away from home, Jesper,’ Kaz reminded him dryly, but Jesper’s smile didn’t fade.
‘It’s all the frontier, Kaz,’ he said, grabbing his own trunk. ‘It feels the same, smells the same, whichever town you’re in.’
He stood next to Kaz as they looked around the small town centre, taking in the blacksmith, the general store, the tavern, the coffee and jurda shop, the medic’s office. ‘Where first, boss?’
Kaz started walking towards the tavern, his eyes busily tracing over every face he could see going about their daily business. They were all Zemeni, as far as he could see. ‘Let’s get some rooms sorted, then we can head out and search properly.’
At first, it had been unremarkable news.
The Wraith hadn’t arrived at Fifth Harbour the week she was supposed to, but Kaz hadn’t been concerned. The tides were unpredictable, as was the slave trade: the Wraith had been delayed before, waiting out a storm or intercepting an unforeseen slaver ship. Kaz just went about his business, managing the Dregs, overseeing the Crow Club and the Silver Six, keeping the Barrel on its toes. A week passed, then another, and although he wouldn’t admit it, Kaz started to worry.
Three weeks late, the Wraith finally limped into the Ketterdam harbour.
Kaz was there at berth twenty-two, hands gripping the crow-head of his cane in an attempt to keep his anxiety from his face. He could see the ship was damaged, chunks of wood missing from the hull, one of the sails stitched haphazardly back together, the foremast bent like a broken limb.
Specht, when he made his way down the gangplank, looked a hundred years older than last time he’d docked in the city. He caught sight of Kaz halfway down, and Kaz saw the emotions flash across his face: exhaustion, sadness, pain, remorse. Kaz flexed his hands and gripped his cane tighter, keeping a scowl firmly on his face. He refused to let any of the panic that stirred in belly show.
‘What business?’ Kaz asked shortly when Specht stopped before him. His voice was rougher than usual, and he felt choked, like he was in the harbour waters all over again.
‘Kaz, mate,’ Specht hesitated, his red-rimmed eyes flicking down to the dockside instead of looking Kaz in the eye. ‘We tried to find her. We stayed in those waters for days, had crews out searching every coastline. We lost her. The captain. Lost her in the True Sea.’
Kaz’s world went darker than it ever had before.
It was easy enough for Kaz and Jesper to get rooms at the East Star Inn.
Pelton was small, and not on the tourist map — Kaz suspected the tavern would only fill up during the festival periods, when extended family members returned home to celebrate with their loved ones.
Kaz dropped his trunk on the floor, locked up the room, and stalked across to Jesper’s door, rapping his knuckles sharply on the wood. For once, Jesper appeared instantly, purple coat discarded but otherwise ready to go.
They walked down the stairs and out into the Zemeni sunshine, stopping outside the tavern entrance.
‘Split up and search?’ Jesper asked idly, his fingers trailing the grips of his guns in their holsters. He might look cool as a cucumber on the outside, but Kaz knew Jesper’s tells. He was anxious, on edge.
Not that he’d ever admit it, but so was Kaz.
Something felt different, this time. There had been so many hopeful rumours over the years, only for each to end in nothing but another piece of Kaz’s heart breaking away, lost to the waves.
But this — this felt different.
‘Let’s stick together,’ Kaz decided, looking carefully up and down the Main Street. Pelton’s town centre only consisted of three main streets, intersecting each other to form a triangle, with a few smaller lanes leading off in other directions. The two of them could take a leisurely stroll around the triangle of streets, and then split up to search further later on.
Kaz set off in one direction, Jesper quick on his heels.
It was hot under the Zemeni sun. Kaz could feel himself sweating beneath his shirt, even with his jacket discarded. He could feel the sticky heat build up beneath his leather gloves, too, but he didn’t dare risk taking them off. He needed the protection they gave him, for when they inevitably didn’t find Inej and Kaz returned back to Ketterdam, heart a little harder.
They passed the general store, a few doors down from the tavern, and ducked inside. Jesper questioned the shopkeeper in Zemeni, while Kaz stood just behind him, leaning heavily on his cane and glaring. The shopkeeper shrugged, then shook his head when Jesper mentioned Inej’s name. Kaz didn’t miss the suspicious look the shopkeeper gave them, however: a pair of gangsters from Ketterdam, with their suits and their tattoos and their weapons. Kaz was willing to bet his last kruge that they’d be getting little honesty from Pelton’s inhabitants this way.
It was no problem to Kaz. He could always come back if he felt the need to… gently convince the man — convince any of the town — to share a little more information with him.
Kaz and Jesper stepped back outside and resumed their slow patrol around the town. The little school was empty, as were the handful of offices they passed. It was Zondersdag, after all, when all schools and most businesses closed up for the day in Novyi Zem.
It had been a Zondersdag back in Ketterdam, the day Specht and the Wraith returned, bearing the darkest news of Kaz’s life. He remembered the relative quietness of the Staves, as he stalked back to the Slat with Specht hurrying to keep up with him. None of the Dregs dared to stop them, or speak to Kaz, as he strode through the Slat, cane thudding heavily into the wooden floor. He battled his way to his attic rooms, collapsing into the chair at his desk, and gestured Specht to speak.
Kaz pulled out the bottle of Kaelish whisky he kept in the bottom drawer of his desk. Usually it was there to celebrate deals — but that day, he poured out a triple shot with shaking fingers, downing it in one go as he listened silently to the details of Inej’s disappearance.
He filed away the pertinent scraps of information in his brain. An ambush, of three ships, in the True Sea. Hand-to-hand fighting on the decks, cannonballs flying overhead. Inej, screaming out orders, blade to blade with a dozen men. There had been some kind of explosion involved, a smoke bomb big enough to obscure the whole of the Wraith for many long minutes.
By the time the smoke had cleared, the attackers had fled, the three hostile ships were hauling anchor, and the Wraith was utterly disabled, unable to turn and chase them.
There had been no sight of Captain Inej Ghafa.
She had disappeared when the smoke dissipated, just like the Wraith for whom she had once been named.
The rest of Pelton was quieter still.
‘Look, it’s just our first day here,’ Jesper said now, as they turned back onto the street their tavern was on, the blazing sun finally fading and sinking lower in the sky. ‘I’ll go out door to door tomorrow, asking around town for any information on her. There aren’t many Suli in Novyi Zem, especially this far south.’
Kaz nodded in weary agreement. The chances of finding any trace of Inej in this backwater frontier town were next to none, but as with every lead over the years, he was determined to leave no stone unturned. ‘And while you’re distracting the pigeons, I’ll do what I do best,’ Kaz added, his voice grim.
As predicted, the next few days bore no fruit. As Jesper chatted to all and sundry in Zemeni, Kaz watched from the shadows and picked every lock he found, searching through houses, businesses, even the little school, anything for a hint of Inej’s name or reputation. The locals took to Jesper better than Kaz, but even with his Zemeni heritage, it was clear Jesper was an outsider to these people. His accent wasn’t quite right, his Barrel flash out of place amongst the sober clothing of farmers and traders. He was tolerated, and welcomed enough, but Kaz saw the lack of warmth in the local people’s eyes, heard the caution in their voices. Small communities like this protected their own after all.
Jesper appeared at Kaz’s side now, after a vague and unhelpful chat with a young farmhand and his pretty Kaelish wife. ‘Nothing,’ he said, his usually exuberant voice subdued. ‘Onto the outskirts?’ There were a few haphazard layers of housing between Pelton’s town centre and the farms that kept people in work and food.
Kaz stared at the ground as they walked along, considering their options. They’d been out in the hot sun all day, and even Kaz was feeling the stirrings of hunger pangs by now, which meant Jesper must be starving. He sighed and nodded towards the Gilded Adze. ‘Let’s stop for food.’
The Gilded Adze was a small public house, thick-walled and cramped, that served passable food as well as local ales and cider. The food at their tavern was better, but they’d eaten there every night so far. Kaz had snuck into the Adze’s back offices the first day, of course, and hurriedly perused the ledgers he found there, but he found no sliver of information on Inej. Nonetheless, it could be useful to eavesdrop on the locals at a different establishment for once.
They ordered themselves ale and stew, and sat at a tiny table with their backs to the wall. Jesper, being able to actually understand the conversations around them, sat quietly and listened, while Kaz slowly drank his ale and picked at his food, sharp eyes trailing over the pub patrons. They were mainly farmhands, gobbling down stew and meat pies as they took a break from the fields. There was a flower seller, her basket of brightly-coloured wares at her feet as she laughed and drank a gently fizzing, pink cordial of some kind with a friend.
Kaz held in his sigh, and tried to push away the thoughts of yet another dead end. One more day in Pelton would probably be enough to close the book on this latest rumour, especially as Jesper turned to Kaz with a small shake of his head.
‘Right,’ Kaz said, decisively, throwing down a handful of Zemeni doma to cover the cost of their meal. ‘One more circuit of the main town, then we’ll head back to the tavern.’
Jesper didn’t respond beyond getting to his feet and leading the way out. He’d been with Kaz on enough of these excursions to know when the search was coming to an end.
They walked a slow circuit of the town, Kaz’s eyes flashing over the faces of the strangers they passed, seeing only Zemeni faces looking back. Jesper, perhaps in an attempt to stop the mood becoming too despondent, was chattering away about the last Ketterdam marcher’s dinner he’d attended, filling Kaz in on all the gossip from the council.
Kaz listened with only half an ear, and as they reached the halfway point of their walk he looked up to do another sweep of their surroundings and the people nearby.
It was then Kaz stumbled to a shocked halt, Jesper breaking off mid-conversation and bumping into him as his did. Kaz’s heart skipped a beat and his stomach lurched like he was the one who’d missed a step.
‘Holy fuck, Kaz,’ Jesper muttered from his side, eyes fixed on the same sight that had brought Kaz to a stop.
Kaz didn’t reply: he didn’t need to, and he wasn’t even sure he could, right then.
Because it was definitely Inej Ghafa, his beloved, darling Inej, across the dusty road from them.
Her long dark hair was braided like she’d always done, her smile dazzling and bright as she knelt down on the ground. And in front of her, smiling back as he looked up at her, was a child of no more than five summers old.
His brown skin and black hair were fully Inej’s, but the arched eyebrows, the upturned nose, the sharp cheekbones: a tiny, unmistakable Kaz Brekker stared out from the child’s face, cast in bronze.
For a moment, Kaz’s whole world seemed suspended in a weightless silence, shock freezing the blood in his veins. Inej — Inej had a child. A child with his own features.
A burning, dangerous rage slowly started to replace the ice in his veins. He — Kaz was a father, and Inej had just disappeared, for years, not even giving him the slightest clue why?
He didn’t want to believe that she had left him, after everything they’d been through.
Didn’t want to believe it, but hadn’t he always, deep down inside? She had always been simply too good for him, and every time Kaz watched the Wraith sail away over the horizon, a dark part of him wondered if this was the last time.
When he and Inej married, the fear had started to lessen, but it had never completely faded. Had Kaz been right all along? Inej had trusted him enough, perhaps, while she could competently defend herself, but when something as precious as a child — a child who carried the burden of a father many dangerous people would be quite happy to see dead — came along, had she found her trust didn’t extend quite as far as they’d both hoped?
Kaz tried to shore up the collapsing of his heart, clenching his jaw and narrowing his eyes as he tore his eyes away from the child — with great difficulty — his furious gaze flashing back up to Inej.
He could barely find it in him to be angry, however, when his gaze settled back on her. She looked — carefree, at ease and relaxed in a way Kaz had never once known her to be in Ketterdam. The difference was enough to steady him, to still him — just for a moment, but it was enough.
Enough for him to spot the anomalies. To see past the facade, to the trickery behind.
He watched as Inej took the little boy’s hand, as they continued to walk slowly down the street. He saw the way Inej didn’t pay any attention to her surroundings, or scan the faces of the strangers walking along. The was she hadn’t looked up instantly, and found Kaz and Jesper watching from across the street. She was wearing a white blouse and a long, patterned skirt: a common enough outfit on the Zemeni frontier, but not one an acrobat-spy could run, jump, climb or fight in. And, Kaz realised as his eyes swept the body that was still so familiar to him, Inej didn’t have a single blade — or any other weapon, for that matter — on her person.
‘What the fuck,’ muttered Jesper again, and he fidgeted as he spoke, clearly itching to run across the road to the pair. Kaz gave Jesper a sideways glance, and saw the expression on his face melt from shock to disbelief to anger and back to shock. ‘I can’t believe Inej would do this — hide a child from you?’
Kaz had thought the exact same thing of course, for a split second, while his heart broke inside his chest and an unnamed emotion burned a hole in his stomach. But now, he had a horrible feeling he knew exactly what was going on.
‘That’s it,’ Jesper declared, jamming his hat more firmly on his head. ‘I’m going over to see exactly what she’s been playing at these last six years.’
Before Jesper could storm off, Kaz grabbed his arm, pulling him back before quickly letting go. He’d gotten a lot better with touch, especially with Jesper and Wylan, but he still preferred to keep any necessary incidents short and sweet.
‘Jesper, wait,’ Kaz said, watching as Inej and the little boy turned a corner and disappeared out of sight. ‘I don’t think Inej knows who she is.’
Kaz and Jesper sat at a table in the Gilded Adze, a mug of Zemeni ale in front of each of them. Kaz sat with his back to the wall, eyes fixed on the tavern doors. Jesper drummed his fingers on the table, impatience rolling off him in almost tangible waves. Kaz took a sip of his ale, half an ear on the conversations around them. Everyone was speaking Zemeni — Kaz recognised the sounds of the words well enough by now, even if he couldn’t understand them — but the tone of the conversations were all easy, relaxed.
It was the same day they’d seen Inej and the child walking along the street, but the sun had long since set, and the pub was crowded and merry as hard-working Zemeni townsfolk started to bustle in for dinner and drinks and celebrate a day’s job done well. The tavern door opened, but it was just a pair of farm workers who bustled through and made their way to the bar.
‘Kaz,’ Jesper said, having clearly waited as long as he could. Kaz had ignored him for most of the day, only slipping a note beneath his door in the early evening informing him of their dinner plans. Kaz sighed, but didn’t hush him. ‘Why are we just sitting here, when Inej is out there? Inej and her — your —chi—’
‘Enough,’ Kaz said, cutting Jesper off. He couldn’t think about that little boy right now. ‘She’ll be here, any moment, and then I just need you to follow my lead, okay?’
Jesper frowned, but nodded nonetheless.
Dirtyhands wasn’t known in Novyi Zem, and Kaz had no dark reputation to make his work easier here in Pelton. Years of experience in the Barrel had given him the ability to intimidate even those who didn’t know him by sight, however, and this time — knowing for certain now that Inej was in town — Kaz had… persuaded the innkeeper at their tavern to admit a Suli woman was known to work at the pub in town some evenings.
It had been the easiest play in the world, then, for Kaz to head back to the Gilded Adze in the quietness of the late afternoon, and slip once again into the back office when the barkeeper was rather busy with his wife in their upper-floor bedroom. Maybe one of Inej’s saints was finally stepping in to help, because Kaz had found the name Inej scrawled on the staff rota, scheduled for that very evening. There had been no other paperwork for her, which is why his hurried search earlier that week had revealed nothing. No surprise there, though: Inej hadn’t had any official documents of her own even back in Ketterdam, with the exception of her indenture certificate, and later her marriage certificate. Alone in Pelton, she would have nothing, and steady work must be hard to come by.
A few moments later, the tavern doors opened again, and sure enough, Inej walked in. Kaz took a long moment to drink in the sight of her again, hale and happy and alive, before turning to Jesper with a meaningful look.
‘We should head back to the tavern soon, I think,’ Kaz said in Kerch, speaking a little louder than usual, his accent clipped and unmistakeable. ‘It was a long trip from Ketterdam, I’m not yet recovered.’
Jesper’s eyes widened slightly, but he’d been by Kaz’s side on too many jobs to be thrown. ‘And so much hotter here,’ he agreed, also in Kerch, his own voice raised so it carried. ‘Never thought I’d miss those Kerch rains.’
Just as Kaz had hoped, Inej raised her head at the sound of their conversation, her brown eyes locking on the pair of them. She paused by their table on the way to the bar, a warm smile gracing her lips. There was no trace of recognition in her features. ‘You’ve travelled from Ketterdam?’ she asked. Her Kerch was still as perfect as ever, even with the echo of her Suli accent as she spoke the foreign words.
Kaz nodded, unable to keep his gaze from her eyes. She was so familiar, so achingly Inej, and yet there was so much about her just not quite right: her open smile, the easy trust in her eyes, the lack of knives about her person. ‘That we have,’ he said. ‘We left Kerch six days past, docked in Shriftport four days ago. You know Ketterdam?’ he added. He knew what the true answer to that question, of course, whatever reply Inej might give.
Sure enough, something flashed in her eyes. A moment of uncertainty, of vulnerability. ‘I — um, actually no,’ she said, her gaze flicking down to the table. ‘I need to… I’m just about to start my shift, so if you gentlemen will excuse me…’ Without waiting for a reply, she hurried away, towards the bar.
Kaz downed the rest of his drink and abruptly pushed himself to his feet, his chair clattering as he moved. ‘Come on,’ he said sharply to Jesper, not waiting for him to reply before he grabbed his cane and limped away. He saw Jesper hurriedly down his own drink and throw a few coins on the table.
When they got back to the East Star Inn, Kaz sat at the tiny desk in his room, quickly picking the lock on his own portable safe, pulling out various bundles of paper and a cluttered keyring.
Jesper picked up on his intent straight away. ‘What do you need me to do, Kaz?’ he asked, his expression serious.
Kaz was already writing something on a scrap of paper. ‘I need you to get back to Ketterdam, as soon as possible. There’s a ferry that leaves at dawn from Shriftport. If you leave now, you’ll make it in time.’ Jesper was already nodding, quick to help in any way. ‘Give this to Anika,’ Kaz added, tossing Jesper a small, silver key. Jesper caught it easily in one hand and pocketed it with barely a glance. ‘It’s for the second safe in my office, she’ll find everything she needs in there to run the Dregs while I’m gone.’
Jesper nodded again, but his eyes had narrowed. ‘And how long will you be gone?’
Kaz ignored him, tossing him another key instead. ‘I know you don’t actually need that,’ he said, drily, ‘but it’ll open the bottom draw of my attic desk. Use the cypher you find in there to communicate with me. I’ll need you to send over some of my things — anything you think might be useful, but nothing that could give away my identity. This,’ he added, holding out the scrap of paper he’d written on, ‘is who you need to address all correspondence to.’
Jesper took it, his eyes flickering down and reading with a frown. Kaz knew the name he was looking at, scrawled on the paper in Kaz’s spiky black writing: Kasper Rietveld.
‘You need to keep your ear to the ground, Jes. You can’t tell anyone we’ve found her — except for Wylan, of course,’ Kaz added as Jesper opened his mouth. ‘If you hear anything at all, any rumour about someone knowing where she is, knowing where I am, anything, Jes, you write to me, okay?’
Jesper nodded, the paper with Kaz’s real name on it already tucked safely away. He looked sad, but Kaz couldn’t focus on Jesper’s feelings. He was busy shoving down far too many of his own, just then.
‘How long will you be gone, Kaz?’ Jesper asked again, his voice uncharacteristically quiet.
Kaz looked up at him, remembering something he’d told Inej, right back at the start: better terrible truths, than kind lies.
‘I’m not coming back, Jes,’ he said. Kaz didn’t even know when that decision had formed, but now it was spoken, he knew there could be no other choice. He let the mask of Dirtyhands carry him through the pain that came with the thought of leaving Ketterdam — leaving Jesper, and Wylan, and his Dregs — for good. ‘Not unless Inej remembers, and wants to return.’
They both knew, after five years of not remembering, that Inej might never recover her past life.
Jesper twitched, but he nodded firmly, ran his hands over the grips of his pistols in the comforting action he did when he was overwhelmed. ‘Saints, Kaz,’ Jesper muttered. He stepped forward then, slowly, until he was in front of Kaz, arms loose at his sides. He was waiting, Kaz knew, for a sign he could touch him.
Kaz gave the briefest of nods, and closed his eyes as Jesper gently pulled him into a hug. He breathed in, deeply. The familiar smell of Jesper: gunpowder and oil, metal and spice, grounded him, kept back the cold waters.
Then Jesper broke away, blinked away a tear that threatened to fall, and gave Kaz a shaky smile. ‘No mourners,’ he said, and Kaz clenched his jaw, ready to say goodbye to his best friend, perhaps forever.
‘No funerals,’ Kaz replied, and then Jesper was gone.