“Not on my person,” said Nikolai. “I know better than to fill my pockets with valuable merchandise around a thief known as Dirtyhands. But the device is well within reach.”

Brekker gave the handle on the iron door a spin. “Come with me, Sturmhond. If we’re going to pull this off, we’ll need some very particular help.”

28

ZOYA

THEY EMERGED FROM THE TUNNEL in an unfamiliar part of the city, and Zoya wondered if Brekker was deliberately trying to disorient them.

“We’re in the Geldin District,” Nikolai murmured. “The favored neighborhood of wealthy merchants.”

Leave it to Nikolai to have an accurate map in his head. It was as if they’d traveled to a different country, not a different part of town. The streets were tidy and lovely, all neat cobblestones and clean brick facades. Zoya noted the curtains in the windows, a woman walking home with her groceries, a housekeeper sweeping a stoop. Ordinary people, living ordinary lives. They did their shopping, ate their meals, lay down at night thinking of the health of their children or the work waiting to be done in the morning. Could they find a way to give this peace, this ease, to Ravka? Would there ever be a time when Grisha were free to choose their paths instead of living as soldiers? It was something worth fighting for.

They arrived at an elegant mansion with red tulips painted over the entry. Brekker rapped twice on the front door with the head of his cane.

Zoya recognized the young man who popped his head out—Jesper Fahey. They’d met him when they’d last been forced to work with Brekker’s crew. He was brown-skinned and gray-eyed and wore his hair shaved close to the scalp. If memory served, he was some kind of expert sharpshooter.

“I’m not supposed to let you in,” Jesper said.

Brekker seemed unperturbed. “Why not?”

“Because every time I do, you ask me to break the law.”

A voice from behind Jesper said, “The problem isn’t that he asks, it’s that you always say yes.”

“But look who he brought,” Jesper said, gazing at Nikolai with delight. “The man with the flying ships. Come in! Come in!”

Jesper threw open the door, revealing a grand entryway and his shockingly bright combination of turquoise waistcoat and hounds- tooth trousers. The ensemble shouldn’t have worked, but Zoya was forced to admit it did. He could give Count Kirigin some lessons.

“I’ve been keeping up on your exploits, Captain Sturmhond,” Jesper whispered conspiratorially.

Kaz Brekker had sussed out Nikolai’s real identity at their first meeting long ago, but Zoya didn’t think he’d shared it with his crew. They all still believed they were dealing with the legendary Sturmhond, rather than Ravka’s king.

“You should join up with us sometime,” Nikolai said smoothly. “We can always use a sharpshooter aboard.”

“Really?”