Our Fractured Souls | Kaz Brekker

[17]

17

Matthias

When he emerged on deck, Matthias had headed straight for the railing. All of these canal rats and slum dwellers had easily found their sealegs, used to hopping from boat to boat on the waterways of Ketterdam.

Only the soft one, Wylan, seemed to be struggling. He looked as poorly as Matthias felt.

It was better in the fresh air, where he could keep his eyes on the horizon. He'd managed sea voyages as a druskelle, but he'd always felt more comfortable on land.

It was humiliating to have these foreigners see him vomit over the railing for the third time in just as many hours.

At least Nina wasn't here to witness that particular shame. He kept thinking of her in that cabin, ministering to the fair, red-haired witch, all concern and kindness.

And fatigue. She looked so weary.

It was a mistake. She'd said. To have him branded as a slaver, tossed onto a Kerch ship, and thrown in jail?

She claimed she'd tried to set things right, but even if that were true, what did it matter? Her kind had no honour. She'd proven that.

Someone had brewed coffee, and he saw the crew drinking it from copper mugs with ceramic lids.

The thought to bring Nina a cup entered his mind, and quickly he crushed it. He didn't need to tend to her or tell the demon Brekker that she could use relief. He clenched his fingers, looking at the scabbed knuckles. She had seeded such weakness in him.

Brekker had appeared above deck long before Matthias had gone down and seen Nina, against his better judgement. The demon boy had been observing the sickly Wylan for as long as Matthias had been down there, and was still there when he reappeared above deck again.

The dark haired boy gestured Matthias over to where he, Jesper, and Wylan had gathered on the forecastle deck to examine the plans of the Ice Court away from the eyes and ears of the crew.

The sight of those drawings was like a knife to his heart. The walls, the gates, the guards. They should have dissuaded these fools, but apparently he was as much a fool as the rest of them.

"Why aren't there names on anything?" Brekker asked, gesturing to the plans.

"I don't know Fjerdan, and we need the details right." Wylan said. "Helvar should do it." he drew back when he saw Matthias' expression. "I'm just doing my job, stop glaring at me."

"No." Matthias growled.

"Here." Kaz said, tossing him a tiny, clear disk that winked in the sun. The demon had propped himself on a barrel and was leaning against the mast, his bad leg elevated on a coil of rope, that cursed walking stick resting on his lap.

Matthias liked to imagine breaking it to splinters and feeding them to Brekker one by one.

"What is it?"

"One of Raske's new inventions."

Wylan's head popped up. "I thought he did demo work?"

"He does everything." replied Jesper.

"Wedge it between your back teeth," Kaz said as he handed the disks to the others. "But don't bite dow-"

Wylan started to sputter and cough, clawing at his mouth. A transparent film had spread over his lips; it bulged like a frog's gullet as he tried desperately to breathe, eyes darting left and right in panic.