Chapter Text
Inej Ghafa didn’t need a reason. Those were the words whispered on the streets of Ketterdam, in the taverns and coffee houses, in the dark and bleeding alleys of the pleasure district known as the Barrel. The girl they called Dirtyhands didn’t need a reason any more than she needed permission- to break a leg, sever an alliance, or change a man’s fortunes with the turn of a card.
Of course they were wrong, Kaz thought as he crept along rooftops slick with rain, eyes firmly trained on the grounds of the Exchange far below. Inej didn’t need a reason- this was indisputable- but that didn’t mean she didn’t insist on having one anyways. Self righteous Suli idealist, he thought bitterly, though even he knew that of all the things to tally on Inej’s scorecard, this was not one of them.
Indeed, the reason for tonight’s parlay with the Black Tips was an Inej specialty. Oh sure, there were the logical reasons. The Black Tips had been encroaching on Fifth Harbor, an area indisputably run by the Dregs. Per Haskell had been breathing down Inej’s throat for some kind of showing out, some display of force, some reminder that he was, in name at least, still the owner proper of the Dregs. And then there was that matter of the Shu warship. But none of these were an Inej reason. No, that was her specialty, wasn’t it? Trying to wring the smallest amount of decency from all of them…
Kaz found himself snapping back to reality with a curse, realizing that he’d lost track of Inej, Jesper, and Big Bolliger, that they’d have made their way into the heart of the Exchange by now, and he, in all his foolish philosophizing, had missed it. And you call yourself a professional, Jordie’s voice whispered in his mind, dark and accusing. Kaz didn’t bother listening. Not this time. He flew across the rooftops of the market buildings, footsteps light, feet barely clinging to the tiles. He was at his best like this, he knew, here on the rooftops of Ketterdam, jumping from precipice to precipice, balancing on razor sharp wires, or slipping unseen into a locked house. He was at his best too when he was on mission, whether it was acting as Inej’s spider, or fishing for information behind a mercher’s closed door. But this, this was not his best right now. Kaz hated being out of control, and out of control was decidedly how he felt in this moment, as if tonight even gravity itself dared work against him, had the audacity to try and keep him from doing his job. And Kaz was nothing if not someone who got the job done.
He skidded to a stop right on the lip of the Exchange, stopping right before he ran into a guard posted on the roof above where the parlay had been to take place. Damn, I told Inej that Geel’s coffers ran deep. Will she even bother using the information I gave her? Probably not.
Surprisingly, even with how off balance he felt, the guard had yet to notice Kaz’s arrival. Creepy as a fuckin’ nightmare, that’s how Jesper liked to describe Kaz, and what with the all black ensemble, the leather gloves, severe undercut, and the dead eyed stare he had perfected, he wasn’t far off. Nightmare. Demon. Terror. Or, as Kaz preferred, the Wraith.
The Wraith.
The Wraith did things that Inej couldn’t, or rather, wouldn’t do. As Lieutenant of the Dregs, she already had a fearsome enough reputation. You didn’t get to where she was by petting kittens and coddling strangers. No, Inej was no pushover, and she wasn’t afraid to get her hands dirty, as her nickname suggested. But Inej was different from any other gang member Kaz had ever known. For one, she was quiet, not prone to loud outbursts or dramatic shows of force. She was careful too, never acting without thinking, never giving anyone an inch where they might later take a mile. She had heart, something sorely lacking in the barrel, but she wasn’t naive. If she needed to take a man’s hand to ensure he never skimmed off the top again, she would. But she would do it while slipping an extra ten kruge into his pocket to ensure his child wouldn’t go hungry. So yes. The Wraith’s job was to do the things that Inej was above, to ensure that her and her reputation remained the Barrel’s most whispered nightmare.
And so it didn’t take a second thought for him to sneak up behind the guard and slit his throat.
The man let out the smallest of gurgles as he died, too surprised to make much of a sound. Kaz eased him gently down to the rooftops, taking the briefest of moments to close the man’s eyes before wiping blood off his gloves. Inej would have said a prayer. Kaz figured the blood on his gloves was all the penance he needed.
The parlay was in full swing by the time Kaz had managed to creep over the side of the roof and get into proper position. Geels and his two cronies, Elzinger and Oomen were faced off against Jesper, Inej, and Big Bollinger. Inej, small but perfectly poised in her dark suit and hat, rested her hands carefully atop the crow’s headed cane she always used. Good, Kaz thought. The idiots didn’t think to take the poor crippled girls’ cane. Self assured morons. Let your arrogance be your downfall.
“Fifth Harbor is ours, Geels,” Inej was saying, head tilted up to maintain eye contact with Geels. She barely cleared five feet, but none could match the presence she had. She felt like she was six foot seven, with the sort of low, musical voice that made you think twice about anything you said or did.
“The Dregs pay for it, maintain it, and fight for it. I will not be negotiating on this matter. You already intercepted a shipment of jurda that should have docked two nights ago. You thought I wouldn’t notice?”
“Quit flexing, little girl,” Geels snarled, taking a step forward, trying to posture. “We all know Haskell ain’t up for a real brawl. And quite frankly, I don’t think you’ve got the guns to match your reputation. A little Suli girl, trying to run with the big names?” Elzinger and Oomen laughed. “We could take you right by that pretty hair of yours and…”
A knife flew from above, whizzing right in front of Geel’s snarling mouth, lodging itself right in the head of Inej’s cane.
Kaz found his hands shaking, and wasn’t that just the most infuriating thing? No. This was infuriating. They hadn’t come here just for these upstarts to get off from insulting Inej and daring to cross territory lines. No. They needed some sense scared into them. Needed to know what Inej and her crew could really do to them…
Geels was laughing again, and Kaz felt he might break a tooth, he was grinding his jaw so hard.
“You’ve really gotten that dog trained well, haven’t you?” He snorted, making to pull the knife from Inej. She pulled away without even seeming to do so, her movements dance like, even despite her crippled leg. “Violating neutral territory over a joke? You really are a child.”
Inej didn’t rise to any of these barbs. She never did. Instead, she merely tilted her head to regard Geels with those fathomless brown eyes.
“So do it.”
Geels looked at her crosseyed. “What?”
“Do it. You said you and yours could best me. As you’ve already mentioned, neutral territory has been violated. So what’s stopping you from proving just how incompetent I am?”
Saints, Inej, do you have to goad them too? Wasn’t the knife enough? Kaz drew another knife from his sleeve, ready to throw. This wasn’t the plan, wasn’t how this parlay was supposed to go.
But Inej had her reasons.
Geels took a step back, narrowing his eyes at her. “What game are you playing at, Ghafa?”
“Stop talking, and tell your guards to shoot. I assume they’re in your pocket, yes?”
Geels gave a telltale look up to the rooftop…the other rooftop. Kaz swore again. How fast did Inej think he was? He vaulted over the lip of the bannister, making a mad dash for the other side of the Exchange.
“Despite all your talk, I think you’re more than a little afraid of a little girl from the barrel, aren’t you, Geels?”
“I’ll put a bullet through your good leg, Ghafa.”
“Again, do it. I don’t do things halfway, you’ll find, Geels.”
Inej, I am not one of those goddamed Saints you pray to. I cannot freaking teleport.
“Fire!”
Kaz felt his heart thud in his chest, and despite the gravity defying acrobatics he was currently engaging in, looked down, bracing for everything to have gone to hell.
Instead it was Big Bolliger who was moaning on the ground. Kaz felt a small smile spread up his lips before he resumed his mission.
“Now who’s really violated neutral territory?” Inej said, the barest hint of mirth in her eyes.
“Inej!” Jesper exclaimed, going to his knees in front of Big Bol, trying to staunch the blood flow. “Bol is hurt, hurt bad…” he trailed off as he saw the look in the girl’s eye, then looked down to the bleeding man. “Oh, you podge…”
“Things not going quite how you anticipated, Geels?” Inej asked again, this time her expression dark and clouded. “You know, it doesn’t always pay to do the indecent thing.”
“Fuck decency,” Geels snarled, pulling the gun from Elzinger’s traitorous hands…the hands that Big Bollinger had conveniently missed the gun on. “You’re going down, Ghafa.”
Inej looked up at him, annoyance clear on her face. “It doesn’t have to be this way, you know,” she remarked, stepping forward so that the gun was pressed right to her chest. “You are the one who will have to atone for the sins of tonight.”
“Won’t be atoning for anything, ‘cept maybe how decent I was for not tearing you limb from limb like any other man would have.”
“Do you speak like this to all the women you know?” Inej’s voice was still calm, too calm. Far too calm. Kaz had almost made it to the opposite rooftop, but he wasn’t sure he’d be on time. Not when Inej was playing such a dangerous hand. “How would your wife feel about you speaking to a lady in such a manner? Your daughter?”
Geels laughed, a low, ugly sound. “If they stepped out of line like you are tonight? You better bet I’d do more than just talk.”
“And your girl on the side? Nineteen Burstraat, isn’t it? Blonde hair, pretty smile? How would she feel, hearing you talk like this?”
Geels swallowed at this, visibly caught off guard by the mention of a mistress. “Don’t got one,” he said after a beat, but anyone could tell it was a lie.
“Really? Because that’s not what she said when we had coffee this morning. She said that she really liked you. Respected you, even. You’d really speak to her as you just spoke to me?”
Geels looked like he was somewhere between deciding whether to vehemently deny the claim, or justify himself. Kaz nearly snorted as he listened to the back and forth, fingertips now inches from the rooftop he needed. Trust Inej to give everything a moral justification.
“You know, you have the opportunity to do the right thing here, Geels,” Inej said, voice still immeasurably calm, perfectly at ease. “Speak to me the right way. And while you’re at? Maybe do your wife and child the favor of letting them know the sort of decisions you’ve been making. That you’re the sort of man who gets a kick out of speaking down to little girls and disrespecting the women in his life.”
Geels’ face went purple at this, but Kaz had finally reached his target, missing whatever the man said in response. A knife was slitting its way through the second guards’ throat, and Kaz whispered a vicious “compliments of the Wraith,” as the man choked and fell. Kaz wiped his splattered face, an act which served only to further cover his face in blood, but he didn’t care. This parlay was about to end one way or another, and it was his job to ensure it went the way they had planned.
Inej was smiling as he slid down the cobbled roof tiles of the Exchange, landing silently on his feet and covering Geels from behind. He knew Inej must have spotted him, because her head tilted up ever so slightly, and he knew this was his moment. He disappeared into a nearby alleyway, ready to deliver Dirtyhands’ trump card.
“Let it be known that I gave you a chance,” Inej declared. “I may be a bastard, but I am not without mercy. Unfortunately, you have chosen your own fate. May the Saints receive you.” Geels opened his mouth, about to sputter some further obscenity, when he stopped cold in his tracks.
A young woman, dressed in the fashion favored by mercher's wives stepped into the harsh lamplight, clutching tightly to the hand of a little girl. The woman’s eyes were wide and angry, but the child simply looked confused. “Papa,” she said, voice trembling. “Do you not love us anymore?”
“Katja,” Geels choked, stumbling backward, face deadly pale. “Marianna. What are…what are you doing…”
“Evening, Geels, ” another voice chimed in. The gobsmacked gang lieutenant made another choking sound as a pretty girl, not more than eighteen years old, stepped alongside Geels’ wife and daughter. “I’ve been making friends…”
Kaz found himself nearly grinning, watching as his… Inej’s ace did its work. If it had been him, he would have threatened the girl, maybe told Geels he’d burn her house down, watch him squirm, choosing between his pride and his love. That would have been satisfying, but there was something about this, something about the way Inej was able to both do the decent thing and also indisputably get the job done. She was the Bastard of the Barrel, and she did not play the same games the other rats did. She didn’t need a reason, but she had one anyways.
Inej had a satisfied gleam in her eye as she turned her back on the family reunion, nodding to Jesper and Kaz. She leaned down to Big Bollinger, and with ice in her voice, snarled, “You made a mockery of your home and your people. I do not forgive, nor do I forget. Take your life, it is more than you are owed.”
“There’s something wrong with you, Ghafa,” Bol spat, side leaking blood. “They didn’t make you right.”
“I’m the kind of bastard they only manufacture in the Barrel, Bol. Best remember that. And tell any who cross me. I may show mercy, but I will never, ever, forget. Go.”
Kaz gave Bollinger his signature flat stare, then followed the other two out of the Exchange. Inej always had a reason. And whether it was by blood or by words, Dirtyhands always came out on top.