𝑮𝑳𝑰𝑻𝑻𝑬𝑹 | 𝑘.𝑏.

49

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T H E  D E A L  I S  T H E  D E A L
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PEKKA ROLLINS TUCKED A WAD of jurda into his cheek and leaned back in his chair to survey the raggedy crew Doughty had brought to his office. Just a bunch of kids, all wearing the costumes of the Komedie Brute. Three as the Madman, one as Mister Crimson, one as the Lost Bride, one as the Imp. But no one got access to his office without showing their face, so the masks had come off.

He recognized some of them.

He'd hoped to recruit the Heartrender Nina Zenik at some point, but now she looked like she might not last out the month — all jutting bones, dark hollows, and trembling hands. Seemed he'd dodged a bad investment there. She leaned against a giant Fjerdan with a shaved head and grim blue eyes. He was huge, probably former military. Good muscle to have around.

Where did Kaz Brekker find these people?

The boy next to them was Shu, but he looked far too young to be the scientist they'd all been so desperate to get their hands on. Besides, Brekker would never bring such a prize to the Emerald Palace.

And then, of course, Rollins knew Jesper Fahey and Inej Ghafa. The sharpshooter had run up an astonishing amount of debt at nearly every gambling den on East Stave. It was his loose talk that had put Rollins wise to the knowledge that Brekker was sending a team to Fjerda. The spider on the other hand was better at her job, better than Rollins ever expected a brothel girl to be anyway.

The only one missing was Brekker's Siren. A ridiculous girl that was hard to miss as she paraded loudly around the Staves. He'd heard his men talk about her, how they would know true happiness if they could ruin her forever. She didn't seem worth the trouble, if you asked Rollins. She was just a girl in over her head.

Brekker stood in the middle of Rollins' opulent office looking like a dark blot of ink, his face grim, his hands resting on a crow-handled walking stick. Rollins wasn't surprised to see him, exactly. Word had it that the exchange between Brekker and Van Eck had gone sour and that Van Eck had eyes on the Slat and the rest of Kaz Brekker's haunts. But Van Eck wasn't watching the Emerald Palace. He had no reason to. Rollins wasn't even sure the merch knew he had made it back from Fjerda alive.

When Brekker finished explaining the bare bones of the situation, Rollins shrugged and said, "You got double-crossed. You want my advice, give Kuwei to Van Eck and be done with it."

"I'm not here for advice."

"The merchers like the taxes we pay. They let the occasional bank heist or house break slide, but they expect us to stay here in the Barrel and leave them to their business. You go to war with Van Eck, and all that changes."

"Van Eck's gone rogue," Kaz said. "If the Merchant Council knew—"

"And who's going to tell them? A canal rat from the worst slum in the Barrel? Don't kid yourself, Brekker. Cut your losses and live to fight another day."

"I fight every day. You're telling me you'd just walk away?"

Rollins was getting tired of this, tired of kids who thought they knew better. "Look, you want to shoot yourself in the foot — the good foot — I'm happy to watch you do it. But I'm not going to ally with you. Not against a merch. No one will. You're not courting a little gang war, Brekker. You'll have the stadwatch, the Kerch army, and its navy arrayed against you. They'll burn the Slat to the ground with the old man still in it, and they'll take Fifth Harbor back, too."

"I don't expect you to fight beside me, Rollins."

"Then what do you want? It's yours. Within reason."