Six of Crows: Cloaked in Shadow

Chapter 23 - Kaz

Kaz crossed the Financial District at a brisk pace, ignoring the few street vendors still calling out to him from the canals and the promising glint of jewels from behind shop windows. He was out looking for something to buy, yes, but not from the likes of these well-to-do shopkeepers. They were too outwardly honest to even dream of selling what he needed. Not that they weren't thieves too, of course – nearly all of them were some sort of petty con-man, judging by the cheap quality of their wares and the decidedly not cheap prices they were selling for. But these weren't the right thieves that Kaz needed. No, those thieves could only be found in the Barrel.

The air was damp and muggy. It tasted of burnt static. Kaz guessed a storm was blowing down from the Wandering Isle towards Ketterdam. He wondered when it would break. A light rain dampened his coat. He smelt it when he crossed into the Barrel; smoke and piss and the awful flowery perfume used by whorehouses and the richer residents instead of washing.

He pulled his hat lower as he walked, picking up his pace. Raven might not be a threat anymore but the Mask and his Lost certainly were, especially because he was walking the Barrel alone. It was a little foolhardy, Kaz had to admit, but he wasn't going to ask any of the others to come with him. He was the Bastard of the Barrel. He didn't need a nursemaid. Besides, it was late, and though he hadn't seen Jesper and Wylan he'd certainly heard them. In fact, they'd woken him up. He hadn't been able to stand listening to their muffled moans a minute longer, so he'd gone out to buy the supplies needed to put his plan into action.

Kaz turned a sharp left. There was the final shop on his list. The other things he'd needed he'd bought from the vendors back in the Financial District; three coils of hemp rope, sticking paper, a box of matches and some wax. But this shop only sold thief's tools; lockpicks, eel-skins, pepper powder, neddies and anything stolen that might sell. Kaz had to duck through the door on his way in. Under the wary eye of the shopkeeper, he scanned the shelves until he found the lockpicks he wanted and bought two sets, then hurried back out.

Once outside, he checked the street for any passer-bys, then after finding it all clear lifted a loose brick in the wall of the shop and took the letters hidden there. He riffled through them. Specht had done a good job in forging them. The flowing calligraphy looked identical to that of the real scribe's.

Lockpicks bought, shopping finished, Kaz set off back down the street. He didn't take any of his usual shortcuts this time, sticking to the main streets. The alleys that branched off were lost to shadows after a few paces. He kept well clear. He wasn't scared of the dark, but he feared the things that lurked in it.

The lockpicks in his pocket reminded him of a conversation he'd had with Wylan a few months ago. Neither of them had been in a good state. Inej was gone, had been gone for two and a half years, and the Van Eck finances were running very low. He'd walked in on Wylan crying softly in the kitchen. "Get up," he'd said, and Wylan had looked at him with disgust.

"Have you ever heard of something called empathy?"

"Crying doesn't solve anything. You want to feel better, you fix your problems."

"Don't you think I would have already if I knew how?"

Kaz had sat down next to him. "I might be able to help."

"I'm stuck in the middle," Wylan had said. "I'm half a mercher, half a thief and awful at being either."

Kaz had gone silent for a long moment. "Look," he had said eventually, "I can't help you at being a mercher. But I'm a pretty damn good thief. What do you want to learn?"

"Anything," Wylan had said helplessly. "Anything that'll help me actually contribute to the team."

Kaz had reached over and tapped Wylan's hand. "You see these?" he'd said. "These are lockpick's fingers. You play piano, don't you? That's perfect. You've got the strength and dexterity. All you need now is to learn."