In a cold and rainy city, comes the story of two unlikely individuals. A criminal prodigy and a Grisha. The boy, known more commonly by the alias he shared with his brother, together they were the "bastards of the barrel." His brother was Dirtyhand...
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Cheers greeted Kaz and Kasper as they emerged from the Eastern Arch, Jasper trailing behind them and, if Kaz and Kasper were any judges, already working himself into a sulk.
Dirix, Rotty, and the others charged at the, whooping and shouting, Jesper's precious revolvers held aloft. The crew had gotten the barest glimpse of the proceedings with Geels, but they heard most of it. Now they were chanting, "The Burstraat is on fire! The Dregs don't have no water!"
"I can't believe he just turned tail." jeered Rotty. "He had a loaded pistol in his hand!"
"Tell us what you had on the guard." Dirix begged. "Can't be the usual stuff. I heard about a guy in Slokan who like to roll out on an Apple syrup and get two—"
"I'm not talking secrets. Holst could prove useful in the future." Kasper said
The mood was jittery, and their laughter had the frantic serration that came with near disaster. Some of them had expected a fight and were still itching for one. Kaz and Kasper knew there was more to it, and they hadn't missed the fact that no one had mentioned Big Bolliger's name. They'd been badly shaken by his betrayal - both the revelation and the way Kaz and Kasper had delivered punishment. Beneath all that jostling and whooping, there was fear. Good. Kaz and Kasper relied on the fact that the Dregs were all murderers, thieves, and liars. Kaz and Kasper just had to make sure the Dregs didn't make a habit of lying to them.
Kaz dispatched two of them to keep an eye on Big Bol and to make sure that if he made it to his feet, he left the city. The rest could return to the Slat and the Crow Club to drink off their worry, make some trouble, and spread word of the night's events. They'd tell what they'd seen, embroider the rest, and with every retelling, Dirtyhands and Strategist would get crazier and more ruthless. But Kaz and Kasper had business to attend to, and their first stop would be Fifth Harbour.
Jesper stepped into his path. "You should have let me know about Big Bolliger," he said in a furious whisper.
"Don't tell me my business, Jes." Kaz hissed
"You think I'm dirty, too?"
If Kaz or I thought you were dirty, you be holding your guts and on the floor of the exchange like Big Bol, so stop running your mouth. " Kasper reminded
Jesper shook his head and rested his hands on the revolvers he d reclaimed from Dirix. Whenever he got cranky, he liked to lay hands on a gun, like a child seeking the comfort of a favoured doll.
It would have been easy enough to make peace. Kaz could have told Jesper that he knew he wasn't dirty, reminded him that he'd trusted him enough to make him his only real second in a fight that could have gone badly wrong tonight. Instead, he said, "Go on, Jesper. There's a line of credit waiting tor you at the Crow Club. Play till morning or your luck runs out, whichever comes first.''
Jesper scowled, but he couldn't keep the hungry gleam from his eye, another bribe
