Stars ― Kaz Brekker

02. reckless hearts

KAZ STARES AT VAN ECK FOR A LONG MINUTE, then bursts out laughing. "Well, it's been a pleasure being knocked unconscious and taken captive by you, Van Eck. You can be sure your hospitality will be repaid when the time is right. Now have one of your lackeys show us to the door."

"We're prepared to offer you five million kruge."

"Cute," Estera says, amused.

"This may come as a surprise to you, Van Eck, but we canal rats value our lives just as much as you do yours," Kaz says, pocketing the pistol.

"Ten million."

"Positively adorable," Estera teases. "What's the point of a fortune if we're too dead to spend it?"

"We'll be leaving now," Kaz tells the mercher. "Where's my hat—did your Tidemaker leave it behind in the alley?"

"Twenty."

Estera fights a look of surprise.

Now we're talking.

Kaz pauses. "Twenty million kruge?"

Van Eck nods, looking rather displeased.

"I'd need to convince a team to walk into a suicide mission," Kaz says. "That won't come cheap."

"Twenty million kruge is hardly cheap," Van Eck snaps.

"The Ice Court has never been breached."

"That's why we need you, Mister Brekker. It's possible Bo Yul-Bayur is already dead or that he's given up all his secrets to the Fjerdans, but we think we have at least a little time to act before the secret of jurda parem is put into play."

"If the Shu have the formula—"

"Yul-Bayur claimed he'd managed to mislead his superiors and keep the specifics of the formula secret. We think they're operating from whatever limited supply Yul-Bayur left behind."

Kaz squints at the mercher. "Why me? Why the Dregs? There are more experienced crews out there."

Mikka starts to cough, and Estera sees blood on his sleeve.

"Sit," Van Eck instructs gently, helping Mikka into a chair and offering the boy his handkerchief. He signals to a guard. "Some water."

"Well?" Kaz prods.

"How old are you, Mister Brekker?"

"Seventeen."

"You haven't been arrested since you were fourteen, and since I know you are not an honest man any more than you were an honest boy, I can only assume you have the quality I most need in a criminal: You don't get caught." Van Eck smiles slightly now. "There's also the matter of my DeKappel."

"I'm sure I don't know what you mean."

"Six months ago, a DeKappel oil worth nearly one hundred thousand kruge disappeared from my home."

"Quite a loss."

"It was, especially since I had been assured that my gallery was impenetrable and that the locks on its doors were foolproof."

"I do seem to remember reading about that."

"Yes," Van Eck admits with a small sigh. "Pride is a perilous thing. I was eager to show off my acquisition and the lengths I'd gone to in order to protect it. And yet, despite all my safeguards, despite dogs and alarms and the most loyal staff in all of Ketterdam, my painting is gone."

"My condolences."

"It has yet to surface anywhere on the world market."

"Maybe your thief already had a buyer lined up."