Drowning (Kaz Brekker)

xvi - The Devil's Song of Doom

SHE RAN. The Witch and the Kherguud battled behind her with ferocious skill, a battle like no other. Asra would've loved nothing more than to get comfy and watch the two once-people level half a city trying to kill each other, but she had things to do.

She was bleeding, burnt, and bruising, but she'd live.

Her breathing came in ragged, adrenaline and shock taking full effect as she bolted through the streets back towards the Church. She'd been gone about half an hour, more than enough time for everything to set itself into effect.

Nina's mission would no doubt be almost done in the Barrel. The auction would've been in full swing, if not already halted by Kaz's fake Council of Tides - Nina's refugees's all dressed up in mist and masks. Any minute now the scream of the plague siren would call, Wylan would show his battered face, and Jesper would take his shot at Kuwie. On Asra's part, at least, everything was going to plan.

Her chest was heaving as she bolted down the street. She could smell the smoke and smog behind her. There were only two things an island truly feared - fire and disease. Kerch was about to get both.

She slipped in through a sidedoor back into the Church of Barter. She made her way quickly and quietly through the halls, back towards the main hall, unable to calm her breathing. Adrenaline and shock wasn't a cocktail she needed right now but she could work through it. She could work through anything.

She paused outside the door, pressing her ear to the wood. There was no calling of prices, no hollering or hissing of insults. There was talking, the occasional shout of protest, and a tense, waiting silence.

Asra pushed open the door and eased into the room. Sure enough, the Council of Tides were stood in the aisle between the pews. A great ring of water sloshed about the balcony Asra had stood on not an hour ago, waiting to be dropped and drown all those below. Half the bidders were on their feet. Kuwei and Kaz and Matthias still stood on the stage, Jellen Radmakker stood on the edge of the platfrom, conferring with the Merchant Council bellow.

She turned up the collar of her coat and slipped unnoticed into the room, sneaking to the shadows with an air of unimportance she'd worn most her life. Of course, when she glanced up at the stage, Kaz glanced right back, but she'd honestly come to expect that. She actually smiled at him. Kaz's lips quirked, and he went back to his debate with Van Eck over just who had rigged the auction.

Eventually, Van Eck fell into the trap. He insisted Kaz and the Crows had been the ones to kidnap Alys Van Eck, his evidence consisting of an unsigned note left beside his very own tiepin - when Kaz had taken it off Asra after giving it to her to sell, she had no idea. Radmakker was replaying all this and, at last, Van Eck set the invitation.

"My son -" the man began, and Wylan's slightly lisped voice rang out through the Church.

"I'm right here, Father."

All eyes turned to the boy stood in the archway beside the stage. His ruddy red curls seemed limp, his clothes dirty and tattered. He leaned against the wall for support, hunched in a way that Asra recognised as broken ribs. His lip was broken, eye swollen almost shut, every inch splattered with blood and bruises.

Van Eck looked mildly inconvenienced.

Kaz murmured something to him, and a much more suitable look of dread settled on Van Eck's features.

"Help him!" Jellen Radmakker shouted suddenly. "Can't you see the boy is hurt?"

Asra stepped forward. Head dipped, collar pulled up, all but faceless. Attention slid right off her, straight and entirely on Wylan as she set a hand on the small of his back and let the boy lean against her. She helped him hobble towards the nearest pew.