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Inej planted herself in front of Jesper and Wylan’s front door and crossed her arms. “Going somewhere?”
Kaz gave a look like he couldn’t believe she was trying to stop him. He was leaning heavily on his cane and holding the metal box he had rescued from the fire earlier that day. “I’m going back to the Slat,” he said. “I have things to do.”
“It’s midnight,” Inej pointed out, not even trying to contain her exasperation. This was far from the first time she and Kaz had had a conversation like this, and it would also be far from the last. “You promised Nina that you would rest here for the night.”
“If I hadn’t she would have called a medik,” Kaz protested. Inej couldn’t tell if he noticed how much he was starting to sound like a petulant teenager. He probably didn’t. As far as Inej knew she was the only person who was able to make him petulant and as a result he never believed her when she pointed it out.
“She still should have called a medik,” she said. “You sound like you’re still having trouble breathing.” She was right: he was still wheezing, just a little. The instant she mentioned it he started to try to even his breathing out.
She sighed. You’re not making it easier for me not to worry about you while I’m away at sea. She didn’t say that, though. There were things Kaz needed to be in a special mood or especially cornered to be maneuvered to into talking frankly about, and his health or lack thereof was one of them. “Come back upstairs,” she said. “I know you were lying when you told us that box was business records for the Dregs.”
For a minute Kaz just looked at her, then he sighed and turned back down the hall, heading for the front staircase. “Fine.”
Neither of them spoke again until they were closed in the room Jesper and Wylan kept cleaned and furnished especially for Kaz; Inej’s was across the hall. Kaz immediately sunk into an armchair. Inej would have liked him to lie down, but she also knew she probably wasn’t going to win that argument so she didn’t push it.
“How did you know I was lying?” Kaz asked, fingering the latches on the metal box.
“I can tell when you’re lying, Kaz,” Inej said, fondly as she perched herself on one of the armrests of the other armchair. “And I know that building had one of your personal safe houses in it. And I know that you only keep records to make Anika and the rests’ lives easier: anything you don’t have memorized isn’t important enough to risk going into a burning building for.”
Kaz gave her a little nod, conceding. “Right on both counts,” he paused a bit longer, obviously contemplating what to say next. “This is some stuff for my side project for you,” he said after a minute. “I was hanging on to it to show you because the exact wording matters and my memory for words is not as flawless as it is for numbers.”
Inej smiled just a little sadly. Kaz had been helping her catch slavers for six years and he still wasn’t comfortable enough with the possibility of his own goodness to refer to his “side project” as what it actually was. She slid down onto the seat of her armchair. “Can I see?”
Kaz opened the box and handed her some of papers inside. She scanned them quickly. They seemed to just be ordinary letters about inane things. “Is this in code?”
“Yes,” Kaz said.
Inej waited for him to tell her what they said. Kaz was good with codes. Codes were basically puzzles and he loved puzzles. He was the one who had created the code they used in their letters. That code was so complicated Inej had risked carrying the key around for months, studying it in her spare moments, until she finally felt confident enough to burn it. However, tonight the minutes went by and slowly she realized that Kaz wasn’t about to spout out the answer.
“You don’t know what they actually say,” she realized.
“Not yet,” Kaz said, slowly. It was obvious it took a lot for him to admit it. “The way codes of this type normally work is that there’s some way to tell which words are important and which aren’t. That doesn’t work here. Or at least, it doesn’t work alone. I think there might be some level of anagram or substitution at work here as well. It’s also possible that you’re only supposed to use certain letters. I’ll crack it: it’s just taking me a bit longer than usual.”
“You’ll get it,” Inej assured him. “Do you know who the letters are from?”
“Did you get the information I sent you that Nina and I stole Barend Meijer?” he asked and Inej nodded. “These are letters between some of Meijer’s superiors and a man named Maxim Vasilyev who’s been making moves into Ketterdam of late.”
“He’s a slaver?” Inej asked.
“Amongst other things,” Kaz said, pinching the bridge of his nose. “All I really know about him is that his family’s Ravkan but that he grew up in the Southern Colonies. He owns a fair amount of land there under his own name and there’s some implication he owns a lot more under various pseudonyms. He has a lot of followers which most likely could be considered a gang.”
“And you know this about him because?” Inej prompted.
Kaz opened his mouth, then closed it. Inej watched him contemplate what to say.
“I strongly suspect he’s after my position,” he finally said.
“Your position in the Dregs?” Inej asked.
“My position in Ketterdam,” Kaz corrected. “Of course, I won’t know for sure until I crack the code in these letters. If I’m right then you and Nina may have come back just in time to get caught in the middle of a gang war.”
“Do you really think it will come to that?” Inej asked, mostly just for something to say. She knew he was serious.
“If I could just have him killed and end this I would have done it months ago,” he said. “And that’s not our only problem. Have you heard of Ambroos Baas?”
“Isn’t he that man from south Kerch who goes around talking about how the Kerch are offending Ghezen with their corrupt ways and should repent before they are punished?” she asked.
“The very same,” Kaz said. “He’s coming to Ketterdam. According to Wylan, he’s promised the Merchant Council that he can clean up the Barrel before winter. I don’t think he could actually manage it and I’ve told Wylan not to worry, but regardless of the ultimate outcome Baas could still stir the merchers into a frenzy for a couple months and get a lot of us Barrel rats thrown in prison right when I most need numbers.”
“Couldn’t you sic him on Vasilyev?” Inej asked. She knew that was well within the realm of Kaz’s abilities.
“I would, except that a very large portion of Baas’s trip here is being financed by Councilman van Dijk,” Kaz’s lips twisted sardonically, “and guess who’s lining van Dijk’s pockets?”
“Vasilyev,” Inej wasn’t even surprised. Of all the merchers in Ketterdam Kees van Dijk was one of the most involved in the slave trade; she and Kaz been trying to shut him down for years without success. “Does Baas know his mission of renewal is being funded by a slaver? Does he care?”
“Hard to tell at this point,” Kaz said. “Most of what I’ve heard suggests that Baas is actually very naive. He may not realize that the merchers of Ketterdam are as crooked as the Barrel rats. Either way, he arrives in Ketterdam at the end of the week and then I’ll be able to tell you for certain once I meet him.”
“You plan to meet him?” Inej asked. “That would be extremely dangerous. You’re on the top of every To Arrest list in Ketterdam.”
Kaz grinned, it was a wild, reckless expression. “I’m not going to meet him in a place where he has the upperhand, my dearest Inej. If I play it right I might be able to scare him right out of the city and back to where he belongs. Which is good,” he sobered, “especially considering that given the connection between van Dijk and Vasilyev we have to consider that van Dijk funding Baas might be Vasilyev’s attempt at splitting my focus.”
His expression didn’t change much from his neutral one, but Inej knew him well enough to tell that regardless of anything he might say, he was really worried about all of this. Inej was worried too. She’d been at sea for most of the last six years, but she still knew how Ketterdam worked. If Vasilyev managed to take over the Barrel, the first thing he would do was kill Kaz. No one who managed to outmaneuver Kaz would let him live the way Kaz had for Per Haskell.
“It probably goes without saying at this point,” she said instead of voicing any of that. Saying it made it real, a possibility, and Kaz didn’t like admitted he was, in fact, merely human and could be defeated, “but I’m with you. Whatever you need done; I’ll do it.”
“Look into the fire from this afternoon?” Kaz asked. “The fact that it started in the building where I was keeping the Vasilyev letters seems like a bit too much of a coincidence for me. I thought no one knew I had these,” he gestured at the letters spread out across their laps. “If someone does know, I need to know as soon as possible. Plus, I need to know how many of my personal safe houses are compromised so I can replace them before things go bad.”
“I can do that,” Inej said. “What are you going to do?”
“Crack this code,” Kaz replied, without a smile. “There’s only so much I can do without knowing what Vasilyev’s plan is.”
Neither of them voiced all the things that could possibly go wrong.