Oh look, I finally wrote something! It's not the best or very long, but it's something at least! I'm actually very nervous to start this fic because I worry so much about characterization, especially for the crows and Kaz especially. So please let me know what you thought with a review!
Disclaimer: I do not own the grishaverse or six of crows, those all belong to Leigh Bardugo. I only own Laila and her story.
CHAPTER ONE
Kaz Brekker was not a man of mercy. Nor was he a man who sought help when he was at a crossroads. His mind was the one who undid every trick, who understood every con and grift in the Barrel.
His mind was the one that stayed awake trying to decipher how exactly those magicians completed their tricks. He did not need the help of those less suited for the job than him. Except, it seemed, when it came to certain death.
A million kruge for a job across the Fold. That trick of shadow itself that not even Kaz Brekker had managed to quite understand.
But there was one who did. Better than anyone if he had to be honest. And she was where she always was, hair splayed in thick curls down her shoulders, held back with a golden pin she'd pilfered from one of her clients.
His view, like most of the men who'd sought her out, was unobstructed, allowing him to soak in every aspect of her skills with little interference. The men beside him had already fallen underneath her spell, sapphire blue eyes peeking through darkened eyelashes, deliberately teasing those who played witness to her dance.
"Come one!" A shorter man yelled at her side, dressed in finer clothes than what befitted most of those in Ketterdam, "Come all! See the mystery and romance! The finest girl in all of Kerch!" So he was one of hers. Kaz would have to make note of his name later. "The Lady of the Night! Miss Laila Bakshi!"
Laila sunk deep into a curtsy, her crimson skirt kissing the earth beneath her, eyes still locked onto the crowd, seeking out her next target. The music struck up again, tambourines and drums of the street musicians she employed filling the air with something akin to cheer. The crowd began to grow, and Kaz allowed himself to step aside, men and women alike pressing against one another and pushing each other aside to see the wonder that had been trumpeted by the boy.
The wonder that Kaz knew once long ago.
Before he was the Bastard of the Barrel and she became the hope of the indentured.
Her brown skin glistened in the yellow streetlights, contrasting with the magenta and red tones she donned, a sliver of skin showing with each flip of her skirt and kick of her leg. Her dance was short and sweet, but effective. With each move Kaz watched the pupils of the men watching dilate, some already throwing their money around like it wasn't the lifeblood of every man, woman, and child in Ketterdam.
Tourists. So easy to beguile.
With a final bow, she scooped up the coin that had been tossed her way, her smile seductive and sweet, playing both the role of saint and sinner at once.
Laila Bakshi's specialty.
Adopting whatever persona would grant her access to your pockets and then abandoning you with nothing left.
A prettier Pekka Rollins, Kaz mused bitterly. Although even he had to admit that Laila had something resembling morals. One of the many reasons they'd never gotten along in the past.
"Thank you for your patronage!" She called out to the crowd, accent slurred and perfectly emulating the Suli performers that traveled through. She did her research it seemed. Or perhaps she'd grown up in a group of those same performers, much like Inej. Perhaps it was her true voice, and everything Kaz knew was a lie.
He wouldn't put it past her.
He rarely knew anything beyond her own name, and he wasn't even sure that was real.
A woman who lived her whole life behind a pseudonym could never be trusted.
But still, she was the only woman west of Ravka who knew a way across the fold. Which made her invaluable to him.
"Please do not be afraid to approach me," Laila continued, "After all, I would be happy to put on another performance for any of you."
Kaz smirked at her words. "Is that a promise?
The crowd went silent as his words pierced the air. Even those who were tourists seemed to know who he was.
Good.
More likely to stay out of his way.
Laila tilted her head, squinting as her smile widened, "Of course, Mr Brekker. I wouldn't dream of denying these fine people what they want."
Kaz chuckled to himself. Or a chance to pluck them of their gold, he thought to himself. "I'm afraid I have urgent business with Miss Bakshi ladies and gentlemen," He turned back to Laila with a nod of his head, "Perhaps you can indulge them another time."
The woman blew out a sigh and her lips dropped into a cursory frown. "Follow me," She instructed, whispering something to the boy who'd announced her, who began to shuffle the crowd out of sight.
Laila led Kaz down the alleys and canals of the West Stave, passing fiddlers and acrobats who wished to achieve the same level of notoriety as Laila did.
But she was something else entirely. There was no one quite like her.
Kaz made a mental map of the path they'd taken, recalling landmarks and signs that he would recognize the next time he needed to track down Laila.
Their final destination ended up being a gorgeous building wrought in iron and marble, painted the same color as Laila's gaze.
The House of the Blue Iris.
"So your sudden wealth isn't so sudden after all," He remarked as they moved into the office of the Madame. Her office it seemed. The girls who worked for her no longer bore the same blue iris she once did, but even Laila Bakshi couldn't change the barrel all by herself.
Her demeanor shifted as she tied her hair up with the scarf that had been wrapped around her waist, cocking her head as she met the icy gaze of the man before her. Her shoulders tensed, jaw clenching as her hands splayed themselves out on her desk, "I have no time for your pleasantries Brekker," She snapped, her Suli accent gone and replaced with the husky one he was used to. It was Ravkan, an endless reminder of the real reason he was here, "Or your games, just tell me what you want."
Kaz gripped his cane and peered at the woman. She looked unnatural in the red hues she donned, so used to seeing her in more muted colors. Earthy to blend in with the world around her, calming to entrap those who fell into her web.
But red...that was deliberate. Everything she did was.
He recalled the dilated pupils of the men beside him and his grip grew tighter. "I need a way across the Fold."
Laila laughed.
Her skirt unwrapped to reveal the dark blue trousers she always wore, kicking up her feet on the table as she leaned back in her chair. "It's impossible," She replied.
"Not for you," He shot back, the words almost catching in his throat. Her blue hues studied him for a moment, squinting before she dropped her feet to the ground.
"I lived in West Ravka before I was brought here," She admitted, staring up at him with a narrowed expression, "I've never been across the Fold."
Her lie echoed in the room, and Kaz let out a mirthless chuckle.
He let the silence stand. She would give in eventually, even if it was just to be rid of him.
With a roll of her eyes, he gained his victory, and Laila stood up, plucking a card from her desk and handing it to him. The insignia of the blue iris stared up at him and he cocked an eyebrow.
"His name is the Conductor." She explained with an exasperated look on her face, "He's a smuggler. I pay him a small fee and he brings me Grisha fleeing the war effort."
That explained the girls and boys who were greener than the Wandering Isle downstairs. It wasn't a whorehouse, it was a safe haven.
Idealistic, but admirable.
Kaz nodded curtly and slid the card in his pocket, his cane barely hitting the floor before he was stopped by Laila once more.
"I want a cut." She demanded, her expression serious, "This job you're doing, I know what it is, I know where you're going."
Kaz huffed. Of course she did. "A million split five ways, it won't be much."
Laila chuckled, a musical thing that rang in his ears, "Is that a yes?"
He didn't need her anymore. Not now that he had the Conductor. Or would have him. Laila Bakshi was no longer needed for this mission.
But that expression behind her eyes, the determination wrought into her face. He recognized it better than anyone. He'd seen it enough times in his own reflection to know what it was.
"We leave at Dawn," Kaz informed her, his expression unchanging, "With or without you."
Laila smirked.