Crooked Kingdom (18 page)

He heaved a flat of wild geraniums into the canal over the protests of the flower seller and grabbed the clothes Matthias had stashed there earlier that morning. He swept the red cloak around Inej's shoulders in a rain of petals and blossoms as she continued to strap on her knives. She looked almost as startled as the flower seller.

“What?” he asked as he tossed her a Mister Crimson mask that matched his own.

“Those were my mother's favorite flower.”

“Good to know Van Eck didn't cure you of sentiment.”

“Nice to be back, Kaz.”

“Good to have you back, Wraith.”

“Ready?”

“Wait,” he said, listening. The fireworks had ceased, and a moment later he heard the sound he'd been waiting for, the musical tinkle of coins hitting the pavement, followed by shrieks of delight from the crowd.

“Now,” he said.

They grabbed the cord and he gave a sharp tug. With a high-pitched whir, the cord retracted, yanking them upward in a burst of speed. They were back on the bridge in moments, but the scene awaiting them was decidedly different from the one they'd escaped less than two minutes before.

West Stave was in chaos. Mister Crimsons were everywhere, fifty, sixty, seventy of them in red masks and cloaks, tossing coins into the air as tourists and locals alike pushed and shoved, laughing and shouting, crawling on hands and knees, completely oblivious to the
stadwatch
officers trying to get past them.

“Mother, Father, pay the rent!” shouted a crowd of girls from the doorway of the Blue Iris.

“I can't, my dear, the money's spent!” the Mister Crimsons chorused back, and tossed another cloud of coins into the air, sending the crowd into freshly delirious shrieks of joy.

“Clear the way!” shouted the captain of the guard.

One of the officers tried to unmask a Mister Crimson standing by a lamppost, and the crowd began booing. Kaz and Inej plunged into the swirl of red capes and people scrambling for coins. To his left, he heard Inej laugh behind her mask. He'd never heard her laugh like that, giddy and wild.

Suddenly a deep, thunderous
boom
shook the Stave. People toppled, grabbed at one another, at walls, at whatever was closest. Kaz almost lost his footing, righted himself with his cane.

When he looked up, it was like trying to peer through a thick veil. Smoke hung heavy in the air. Kaz's ears were ringing. As if from a great distance, he heard frightened screams, cries of terror. A woman ran past him, face and hair coated in dust and plaster like a pantomime ghost, hands clapped over her ears. There was blood trickling from beneath her palms. A gaping hole had been blown in the facade of the House of the White Rose.

He saw Inej lift her mask, and he pulled it back down over her face. He shook his head. Something was wrong. He'd planned a friendly riot, not a mass disaster, and Wylan wasn't the type to miscalculate so gravely. Someone else had come to make trouble on West Stave, someone who didn't mind doing more than a little damage.

All Kaz knew was he'd invested a lot of time and money in getting his Wraith back. He sure as hell wasn't going to lose her again.

He touched Inej's shoulder briefly. That was all the signal they needed. He raced for the nearest alleyway. He didn't have to look to know she was beside him—silent, sure-footed. She could have outpaced him in an instant, but they ran in tandem, matching each other step for step.

 

10

J
ESPER

Now this was Jesper's kind of chaos.

Jesper had two jobs, one before the exchange of hostages, and one after. While Inej was in Van Eck's possession, Nina was the first line of defense if the guards tried to remove her from the bridge or anyone threatened her. Jesper was to keep Van Eck in his rifle sights—no kill shots, but if the guy started brandishing a gun, Jesper was allowed to leave him without the use of an arm. Or two.

“Van Eck's going to pull something,” Kaz had said back on Black Veil, “and it's going to be messy, because he has less than twelve hours to plan it.”

“Good,” said Jesper.

“Bad,” said Kaz. “The more complicated a plan is, the more people he has to involve, the more people talk, the more ways it can go wrong.”

“It's a law of systems,” Wylan murmured. “You build in safeguards for failures, but something in the safeguards ends up causing an unforeseen failure.”

“Van Eck's move won't be elegant, but it will be unpredictable, so we need to be prepared.”

“How do we prepare for the unpredictable?” Wylan asked.

“We broaden our options. We keep every possible avenue of escape open. Rooftops, streets and alleys, waterways. There's no chance Van Eck is going to let us just stroll off that bridge.”

Jesper had seen trouble coming a ways off when he'd spotted the groups of
stadwatch
headed for the bridge. It could just be a rousting. That happened once or twice a year in the Staves, the Merchant Council's way of showing the gamblers, procurers, and performers that no matter how much money they poured into the city coffers, the government was still in charge.

He had signaled Matthias and waited. Kaz had been clear: “Van Eck won't act until he has Alys back and out of harm's way. That's when we need to keep sharp.”

And sure enough, once Alys and Inej had traded places, some kind of ruckus had started on the bridge. Jesper's trigger finger itched, but his second job had been simple too: Watch Kaz for the sign.

Seconds later, Kaz's cane shot into the air, and he and Inej were hurtling over the bridge railing. Jesper struck a match and one, two, three, four, five of the rockets Wylan had prepared were screaming toward the sky, exploding in crackling bursts of color. The last was a shimmer of pink.
Strontium chloride
, Wylan had told him, working away on his collection of fireworks and explosives, flash bombs, weevils, and whatever else was needed.
In the dark, it burns red.

Things are always more interesting in the dark
, Jesper had replied. He hadn't been able to help it. Really, if the merchling was going to offer those kinds of opportunities, he had a duty to take them.

The first batch of fireworks was a signal to the Mister Crimsons whom Nina and Matthias had recruited last night—or very early this morning—offering free food and wine to anyone who came to Goedmedbridge when the fireworks went off just after noon. All a big promotion for the nonexistent Crimson Cutlass. Knowing only a fraction of the people would actually show up, they'd given away more than two hundred costumes and bags of fake coins. “If we get fifty, it will be enough,” said Kaz.

Never underestimate the public's desire to get something for nothing.
Jesper figured there had to be at least one hundred Mister Crimsons flooding the bridge and the Stave, singing the chant that accompanied his entrance in any of the Komedie Brute plays, tossing coins into the air. Sometimes the coins were real. It was why he was a crowd favorite. People were laughing, whirling each other around, grabbing for coins, chasing after the Mister Crimsons as the
stadwatch
tried in vain to keep order. It was glorious. Jesper
knew
the money was fake, but he would have loved to be down there scrambling for silver anyway.

He had to keep still a little while longer. If the bombs Wylan had planted in the canal didn't go off when they were supposed to, Kaz and Inej were going to need a lot more cover to get off the flower seller's boat.

A series of glittering booms exploded across the sky. Matthias had released the second batch of fireworks. These weren't a signal; they were camouflage.

Far below, Jesper saw two huge gouts of water spurt up from the canal as Wylan detonated his water mines.
Right on time, merchling.

Now he stowed his rifle beneath his Mister Crimson cloak and descended the stairs, stopping only to join Nina as they raced out of the hotel. They'd marked each of their red-and-white masks with a large black tear to make sure they'd be able to tell one another apart from the other revelers, but in the midst of the melee, Jesper wondered if they should have chosen something more conspicuous.

As they sped across the bridge, Jesper thought he spotted Matthias and Wylan in their red capes, tossing coins as they steadily made their way off the Stave. If they started running, it might draw
stadwatch
attention. Jesper struggled not to laugh. That was definitely Matthias and Wylan. Matthias was hurling the money with way too much force and Wylan with way too much enthusiasm. The kid's throwing arm needed serious work. He looked like he was actively trying to dislocate his shoulder.

From here, they'd go separate directions, each through a different alley or canal that led off the Stave, discarding their Mister Crimson costumes for other Komedie Brute characters and disguises. They were to wait for sunset before they returned to Black Veil.

Plenty of time to get into trouble.

Jesper could feel the pull of East Stave. He could wend his way there, find a card game, spend a few hours at Three Man Bramble. Kaz wouldn't like it. Jesper was too well known. It was one thing to play at the Cumulus in a private parlor as part of a job. This would be something different. Kaz had vanished with promises of a huge haul and several valued members of the Dregs. People were speculating wildly about where he'd gone and Rotty had said Per Haskell was looking for all of them.
Stadwatch
officers would probably be visiting the Slat tonight to ask a lot of uncomfortable questions, and there was Pekka Rollins to worry about too.
Just a couple of hands
, Jesper promised himself,
enough to scratch the itch. Then I'll go visit Da
.

Jesper's stomach turned at that. He wasn't ready to face his father alone just yet, to tell him the truth of all this madness. Suddenly the need to be at the tables was overwhelming. To hell with not running. Since Kaz hadn't obliged him with something to shoot at, Jesper needed a pair of dice and long odds to clear his mind.

That was when the world went white.

The sound was something between a thunderbolt and a lightning crack. It lifted Jesper off his feet, sent him sprawling as a roaring
whoosh
filled his ears. He was suddenly lost in a storm of white smoke and dust that clogged his lungs. He coughed, and whatever he'd inhaled grated against the lining of his throat as if the air had turned to finely powdered glass. His eyelids were coated in grit and he fought not to rub at them, blinking rapidly, trying to dislodge bits of debris.

He pushed himself up to his hands and knees, gasping for air, head ringing. Another Mister Crimson lay on the ground beside him, a black tear painted onto his red lacquer cheek. Jesper dislodged the mask. Nina's eyes were closed and blood ran from her temple. He shook her shoulder.

“Nina!” he shouted above the screams and wailing around him.

Her eyelids fluttered and she drew a sharp breath, then started coughing as she sat up.

“What was that? What happened?”

“I don't know,” said Jesper. “But someone other than Wylan is setting off bombs. Look.”

A huge black hole gaped in the front of the House of the White Rose. A bed hung precariously from the second floor, ready to collapse into the lobby. The rose vines that climbed the front of the house had caught fire, and a heavy perfume had risen in the air. From somewhere inside, they could hear shouting.

“Oh, Saints, I have to help them,” Nina said, and Jesper's addled mind remembered that she'd worked at the White Rose for the better part of a year. “Where's Matthias?” she asked, eyes searching the crowd. “Where's Wylan? If this is one of Kaz's surprises—”

“I don't think—” Jesper began. Then another
boom
shook the cobblestones. They flattened themselves on the ground, arms thrown over their heads.

“What in the name of every Saint who suffered is going on?” Nina yelled in fear and exasperation. People were shrieking and running all around them, trying to find some kind of shelter. She pulled herself to her feet and peered south down the canal toward the plume of smoke rising from another of the pleasure houses.

“Is it the Willow Switch?”

“No,” said Nina, an expression of horror dawning on her face as she came to some realization Jesper didn't understand. “It's the Anvil.”

As she said it, a shape shot skyward from the hole in the side of what had been the Anvil. It soared toward them in a blur. “Grisha,” said Jesper. “They must have
parem
.” But as the shape zoomed overhead and they twisted their necks to follow its progress, Jesper saw he was very wrong. Or he'd completely lost his mind. It wasn't a Squaller flying above them. It was a man
with wings—
huge, metallic things that moved in a hummingbird whir. He had someone clutched in his arms, a boy screaming in what sounded like Ravkan.

“Did you just see that? Tell me you saw that,” said Jesper.

“It's Markov,” Nina said, the fear and anger clear on her face. “That's why they targeted the Anvil.”

“Nina!” Matthias was striding across the bridge, Wylan at his heels. Both of them had their masks shoved atop their heads, but the
stadwatch
had to have bigger concerns right now. “We have to get out of here,” Matthias said. “If Van Eck—”

But Nina grabbed his arm, “That was Danil Markov. He worked at the Anvil.”

“The guy with wings?” asked Jesper.

“No,” Nina said, shaking her head frantically. “The captive. Markov is an Inferni.” She pointed down the canal. “They hit the Anvil, the House of the White Rose. They're hunting Grisha. They're looking for me.”

At that moment, a second winged figure burst from the White Rose. Another
boom
sounded, and as the lower wall caved in, a huge man and woman strode forward. They had black hair and bronze skin, just like the men with wings.