Drowning (Kaz Brekker)

v - Parley

PETTY. He'd called her petty. Asra had been called a lot of things in her life, most of them bad, but petty was new.

He should've brought her. No matter the job, Asra would've been useful. It was just what she was. Useful, convenient, made to serve and happy to do it. But no. "You're too trigger happy." He'd said.

"And Jesper isn't?"

"Jesper isn't like you. He'll have other things to worry about."

"I'm sure that will make sense when you tell me the plan."

"You'll see." He'd simply said. Then he noticed her frown. "Don't be petty, Asra dear. It takes years off you, and we're too young for that." Then he was gone. Asra had been so stunned she'd just stared as he walked off. Petty. She wasn't petty. She was a killer, dangerous, wild, utterly terrifying and brilliant in everything she did. She wasn't petty.

Now here they were. Kaz, Jesper, and Big Bolliger were getting ready for parley while the rest of them shuffled about trying to keep warm in the cold night. But Asra didn't mind the cold. She just folded her arms and watched from the outskirts of their small group, listening. Old habits, she told herself. You'll grow out of it. Or maybe they were all just insufferable idiots she didn't like talking to. Who knows?

Jesper was going on about the latest stunt from Shu Han. Three ships, filled with gold, enough to pay off the whole country's debt and then some. Asra wished she wasn't interested, but her mind was already whirling with ideas as to explanations and, this was worst of all, business implications. She reminded herself that wasn't her problem anymore, but the tattoo on her left wrist argued. Her scars stung, and the hairs on her neck stood straight. Though, the latter could be put down to Inej, who solidified out of shadow and stood beside Asra without a word.

"Don't the Merchant Council want the Shu paying their debts?" Bolliger asked.

Asra shrugged. "Debts are leverage." 

Kaz nodded. "They makes for friendlier negotiations."

"Maybe the Shu are done being friendly." Jesper said. "They didn't have to send all that treasure at once. You think they stuck that trade ambassador?"

That trade ambassador had been the pillar of Zemeni-Kerch trade. The man had been assassinated in the Stadhall bathroom, a knife found in his back as he lay face down on the floor. There were no windows, no entrance beside the one Stadwatch had to break down afterwards, no vents, no nothing. It was a mystery, an impossible feat.

Kaz was obsessed with it. He'd brought Asra and Inej into his room and simply demanded they explained it. The three came up with dozens of theories and stories and reasons, but none satisfied any of them. Asra kept her most likely theory to herself. A serpant, perhaps. A Tidemaker one. But that didn't explain the blade. Even Asra was stumped, and she was certain she had the answer. Until two nights ago, of course. She hadn't told Kaz about that either, only the bare minimum. Damned merchant had nearly ruined everything. She should've killed him.

She was snapped from her thoughts by the sound of guns being drawn and chains rattling. She tensed instinctively, then cursed herself for it. Jesper and Big Bolliger were removing themselves of weapons. Bolliger dropped his chain, hatchet and switchblade into Rotty's hands. Jesper made a very big display of handing Dirix his custom pistols.

"Take good care of my babies. If I see a single scratch or nick on those I'll spell forgive me on your chest in bullet holes." He said.

"You wouldn't waste the ammo." Dirix said.

"He would." Asra told him.

"He'd be dead half way through forgive." Bolliger told Jesper.

He rolled his eyes. "It's about sending a message. What's the point of a dead guy with forg written on his chest? You get it, Asra?"