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Under them, Ketterdam roars, and the city needs to feed.
"Who's Jordie?" Jesper asks for the second time in his lifetime.
The first time he muttered the words it carried no meaning to him, an immediate reaction in the middle of a fight with his best friend. The sensation of free fall, of being in uncharted territory, because Kaz Brekker was born in the dirty canals of Ketterdam. He had no past. This time, it sounds simple, a careful knock on the door.
Someone I trusted, someone I didn't want to lose.
Tonight, the air in Ketterdam still smells like it used to all those years back. They are still in the worst part of the Barrel, in a dirty building while the waves of tourists distract themselves with the bright attractions under them. Just like in all those nights, Jesper watches them, his hand heavy on the pistols that rest on his hips, but Kaz knows that the other's eyes don't shine with the same desperation that they used to. The promise of a good gamble does nothing to increase his heartbeat. For the first time, he notices the effects of the Grisha training on his best friend, he seems ancient. Not calm, but at peace.
There will be a job in about two weeks if Kaz's plans run smoothly, something to do with the casino below them, they are just making scanning the area, learning its patterns. It isn't the kind of job that the King of the Barrel should be doing, there is someone out there who is less important and less busy. Kaz Brekker always has a reason, every act of violence had a purpose and so did the ones of kindness.
Jesper asks about Kaz Rietvield's brother and no tides come up, there is no smell of rotting flesh.
"He was my brother. My older brother."
Kaz was older than his brother now. He would be forever stuck at thirteen, somewhere at the bottom of the canal.
Jesper is almost twenty-four, looking at him with a solemn tone. They sit closely, their chairs at an angle that makes the lights reflect on the golden beads he wears on his braided hair. His clothes are still outrageous, shiny, and loud, but they fit perfectly now. This is not the same reckless sharpshooter that lived in the barrel, this is a Fabrikator, the closest companion to a merchant. Somehow, it's also still Kaz's best friend.
Put a leash on your dog, Brekker. A man had said once to him, one time the sharpshooter had pulled his guns too soon. Jesper didn't mind, young and scared, he knew deep down that there was a part of him that would follow Kaz anywhere, as long as he gave him something to gnaw at.
"Why?", no one asks the leader of the Dregs that anymore, not directly, they all circle the question. But Jesper isn't young and scared anymore, he doesn't need to bite things to ensure they are real. He wonders if Kaz feels the same.
When he looked into the past, he saw his brother through the eyes of the boy he’d been: brave, brilliant, infallible, a knight bested by a dragon dressed like a merch. But how would he see Jordie now? As a mark? Another dumb pigeon looking for a shortcut?
The pale man answers, voice raspy and hesitant, "He– Jordie was smart and hungry. He didn't wait, he acted. When Pa died–" when was the last time he'd talked about his father? Even spoken his name? "We could have been fine, worked on the farm. But Jordie wanted more."
"Sounds oddly familiar," Jesper says. Kaz smiles, the one in which he doesn't flash his sharp teeth.
Surprisingly, he continues talking. The Reaper's Barge is far away, a pair of gloves deep in his pocket.
"He was there for me. All the time," his voice is small now and Jesper wonders how he sounded as a kid before life had made him grow into something bigger than his bones, "He died protecting me."
He remembers the warmth of Jordie's embrace between the fever. He wonders if his brother cried, or if he died calmly thinking Kaz would soon follow, comforted by the fact that the kid would not suffer through much. He wonders if it would have been better if he did. If Ketterdam had never been blessed with another one of its monsters.
The King of the Barrel takes a deep breath, his shoulders relax and he stretches his bad leg. Jesper pictures him on a farm, working with the animals and tanned from the sun.
Jesper would be dead in that world, drowned in his debts with no bastard of the Barrel to help him.
It isn't fair, the Grisha understands that now. There is no justice for people like them, there is only revenge, Kaz, Wylan, and Inej all got theirs, but there was no revenge for Jesper, there was no one he had to destroy. It wasn't fair that Jordie had to die for Jesper to live, and it wasn't fair that Aditi had to die for Kaz not to be alone.
There is only silence now, a ghost in between them. Two boys that came from a completely different world, thrown into tragedies and growing up rotten. Nonetheless, the lack of speech sits comfortably, a new thing for them, but a welcome one.
Jesper is the first one to break it, "I miss it sometimes."
Kaz snorts, "What? The gambling? The endless nights? The constant risk of death?"
"The company, mostly."
Jesper could have been imagining it, but he saw a bit of a smile form at the corner of the other's mouth, "You can just drop by, you know that right? There is no need to have a job as an excuse."
"Now, what would be the fun in that, Fahey?"
A loud sound of a gunshot echoes through the street, and screaming immediately follows.
Ketterdam needs to feed, but as the sharpshooter checks his revolvers, he feels an ungloved hand on his shoulder. They are not prey anymore.
There is a bottle of whiskey forgotten on the windowsill, and in another life, it would have marked a special drink between two college students, two boys with happy families who met under better circumstances. Tonight, however, it sits in between the best criminals in Ketterdam.