"I read them," Inej told Jesper and Wylan when they met up in the library. She had been pleasantly surprised to find a nautical book with a chapter on knot-tying; practice knots tied in twine littered the table in front of her. The indenture papers were on the table, too.
Jesper picked up one of the contracts, sliding a couple of sheet bends off it. "They're the same?"
"The values vary, but they're mostly identical. With the Transfer of Authority signed and returned now, Wylan can void them if he wants to." Inej glanced at Wylan, waiting for his reaction.
"I'm not going to do that," Wylan replied softly. He met her gaze, but without any challenge in his eyes. "I know you don't like it, Inej, but there are advantages to indentures. They're safe here. If I void the contracts without asking what they want, how am I any better than my father?"
Maybe. Inej doubted Jan Van Eck's indentures were obtained the way Tante Heleen purchased her indenture, but even so, these people had all but traded over their freedom. She had seen previous papers at Smeet's, enough to realize the indentures were designed to make squirreling anything away difficult—so that when an indenture ended, sometimes the only option someone had was to re-indenture.
"Those rates are very high," Wylan said.
Inej remembered the numbers on her own papers of indenture. Comparatively, she had been cheap. The price of a human being wasn't something she often thought about, so learning those numbers were high surprised her. Was it anything against the cost to a soul?
"What were those dates again?" Wylan asked.
Jesper read them off.
Wylan took a breath and blew it out in a way that told Inej he had done the math, as well. He sighed, shook his head.
"What am I missing here?" Jesper asked.
"The war in Ravka," Inej said.
"Son of a bitch."
Wylan nodded. "Basically."
What better time to sweep a Grisha into a cost-efficient indenture than when they were fleeing a civil war and uncertain there was any safe place for them? Shu Han meant being cut open. Fjerda meant being burned to death. Novyi Zem and the Southern Colonies were safer, but expensive to reach.
"You are not your father, Wylan." Inej could see his thoughts turning that direction. He had benefitted from Jan Van Eck's Ghezen-sanctioned exploitative behavior, but he was trying to put it right.
"He's a bad person. This... this is practically blasphemy!"
"You take after your mother," Jesper said.
"I'll be with you when you speak with them," Inej reminded Wylan.
He nodded.
"I'll be there, too. Working in my official capacity as Mister Van Eck's secretary."
"I can't make him stop saying that."
Inej wasn't surprised: "You can't make Jesper stop saying anything."
"True," Jesper agreed with a sage nod.
Inej remembered—couldn't stop herself from remembering—what Van Eck had done to her. She remembered the days and nights in that dark room, being coaxed and cajoled into speaking, the horrible coldness in his eyes. She remembered the casual way he had smacked Bajan. Bajan was weak, an accomplice afraid to do the work himself, but that did not change how brutally efficient Van Eck's use of violence was.
He would hate Jesper. He would hate him for being loud, for being funny, for the clothes he wore and the constant way he smiled. He would hate the relaxed, casual, boisterous way he continued being himself even here, and Inej loved him for it. Nothing could push away the specter of that man quite like Jesper, simply by refusing to conform to the heaviness of expectations that weighted the air in this house.
"Of course, Wy…"
Wylan's eyes had gone distant. He was too still, gripping the arms of his chair so hard his knuckles were going white.
Jesper trailed a fingertip up his arm, a ghost of touch as he concluded, "…you could try to make me."
Well, his eyes were present now, wide as a blush crept up his face. Wylan stammered half-syllables while Jesper grinned shamelessly. It was after too long of a pause to be a true retort that a red-faced Wylan squeaked, "M-maybe later."
Inej couldn't remember the last time she'd seen a look of such utter delight on Jesper's face. It wasn't the adrenaline-fueled giddiness after a good brawl, nor the gleam when Kaz first told him about the Ice Court job. This awkward little mercher boy's failed attempt at flirting made Jesper happier than four million kruge.
Wylan dropped his face into his hands. He was laughing, red as a strawberry, and seemed to genuinely mean it as he said, "I'm sorry, Inej!"
She wasn't as entertained as Jesper, but she was smiling nonetheless—at their happiness and ridiculousness and Wylan's utter hopelessness as a flirt.
"It's okay," Inej said.
Though it did postpone their going to speak with the Grisha until the blush was gone and Wylan had stopped biting his lips to keep from snickering. Jesper was no help. The little group was heading out of the library when he slung an arm across Wylan's shoulders and told him softly, "Definitely later."
Eventually—so long Inej had given both boys an unamused look to spur them on—they did make it to the Grisha workshop.
Wylan held the indentures of two Grisha. There had been a Tidemaker, but he was given jurda parem and did not survive. Now there was a Durast and a Healer left, neither much older than Inej.
She swallowed the pain at thinking about that. Their indentures had not been like hers, but still conjured memories that were painful to carry.
Wylan laid out the terms he could offer them: he understood his father had approached them when they were vulnerable and in need of help, if they wanted, he would void the contracts and help them return to Ravka. Inej gave a small nod of approval even as the Durast, Pyotr, scoffed.
"Back to Ravka?" he asked. "To fight another stupid war for another stupid king?"
He was the only person in the room past twenty, and seemed keenly aware of it. The look he gave Wylan was at best derisive; he held himself proudly and had probably struggled enough being indentured to a grown man. No wonder his pride smarted—but Inej had spent enough time in the Dregs to know a boy could be a better leader than a man.
She was surprised at how keenly the thought made her miss Kaz. She had seen him just days ago. It felt like longer.
"Where would you like to go?" Wylan asked.
He scoffed at the question. Delightful, Inej thought. This one must have had loads of fun working for Jan.
"I'll stay," said the Healer.
"Sveta," Pyotr said. What he said next was in Ravkan, and Inej understood it was meant to be private. She understood his words, too, but said nothing. It was better for people to have that comfort, believing they had privacy, and she meant them no ill will.
"I do not want to go home either," Sveta said, picking her words carefully. "I only like being Grisha because I have friends. Now only Pyotr. We lost Mikka. I want to live. In the Little Palace…"
They had heard rumors of what happened during the civil war. The massacre at the Little Palace was the stuff of grisly whispers. Inej wondered if Sveta thought about it the way she thought about the Menagerie. If she ever imagined it burning to the ground.
"You can stay," Wylan agreed.
Pyotr tried again, and again Sveta argued in Kerch: "Nowhere is safe. Slavers get you everywhere."
Inej knew how true that was, and would admit that there was a degree of safety on Geldstraat. She and Kaz had been able to break in, but she and Kaz were the best in the business, and the Van Eck mansion was now home to someone with a basic knowledge of how criminals worked.
"These people killed Mikka! They killed Anya!"
At the raised voice, Jesper stood up straighter from where he leaned against the wall. Inej didn't know what he thought he was going to do
"Not me," Wylan objected. "I had nothing to do with my father's… experiments."
"Where were you to stop him?"
"He wasn't here," Jesper drawled, sounding almost bored. "You were. He's not Grisha, either. You are. Seems to me you're more to blame."
"Do not—" Pyotr said.
At the same time, Inej said, "Jes," in a warning tone.
"What do you want, Pyotr?" Wylan asked.
Pyotr scowled for a moment, then he shrugged.
"Sveta," Jesper said, "Mister Van Eck has bruised ribs, can you fix that?"
She nodded. "Yes. It will be easy."
Jesper gave Wylan a meaningful look. Wylan cleared his throat and asked, "Can that be handled somewhere more private?"
Sveta showed Wylan into the next room, leaving Inej and Jesper with the sullen Durast. Inej took the time to study him. From what she knew of Ravka, Pyotr, as a Fabrikator, would not have had combat training. He looked like he could hold his own in a fight, anyway.
"I was indentured once," Inej told him. "I understand it's not—easy, but Wylan is nothing like his father. If you want to be released from your contract, he'll respect that."
Pyotr scowled. She suspected he did a lot of that.
"They're family, not the same man," Jesper added.
"He's not a man."
Somehow, that made perfect sense to Inej. She remembered how she felt when Kaz handed her the papers from her own indenture, paid in full. It had made perfect sense at the time. Wylan was only a bit younger, but the idea of him handing over her papers felt quite different.
Noticing a flash in Jesper's eyes, Inej gave him a tiny shake of her head. Jes was rash, but this was no situation for drawn guns and thrown fists, nor for sharp words, however well intended. He gave her a sheepish look and settled for stroking the handles of his revolvers. Whether that was meant to be intimidating or just a response to sitting still, she wasn't certain.
"Van Eck said we would be together when we signed the papers. He sold Anya's indenture first. She died. Then Mikka. Sveta stays, I stay."
Pyotr scowled once more, then stood and left the room.
"He's delightful," Jesper remarked.
Inej was inclined to agree. And she was surprised. She had not thought it possible to be more disgusted by Jan Van Eck.
She was surprised by how the discussion had gone. When she was in the Menagerie, Inej would have been suspicious and surprised if anyone offered her the chance to leave—anyone, not just a boy with an especially shady reputation. But she would have wanted it.
Maybe Sveta had a point. More than her Grisha powers made her vulnerable; she was a quite pretty girl. It was dangerous, to be a pretty girl. The Second Army gave Grisha a good life, from what Nina had said, but Nina was a patriot. Sveta sounded like she had cared more for her friends. Seeing them killed, it was no wonder she didn't want to go back to the Little Palace.
"Jesper."
"Where?" Jesper asked, making a show of looking around.
Inej gave him an exasperated but amused look.
"Don't keep her cooped up here. Help her find some friends."
He looked at her for a moment, saw that she wasn't just serious but deeply meant what she said, and nodded. Sveta had Pyotr, but her shrinking social circle oughtn't be capped at she knew one other person.
Wylan and Sveta returned a moment later.
"Thank you, Sveta."
She had fixed not only his ribs but the bruising on his face.
Looking at Jesper, Sveta said, "He has damage, too."
"Please fix it."
Sveta motioned for Jesper to follow her, but he shook his head. "Here's fine," he said, removing his shirt. Wylan looked away.
Inej thought about the showers at the Ice Court. How had Wylan managed? Inej had been nervous herself, even knowing what to expect it wasn't easy to undress around so many strangers. But she had been with Nina. Nina, who was her friend, who seemed untouched by nerves. Ooh, look, my nipples are at eye level. Inej had ducked her head and let the tremors in her shoulders seem like sobs to the Fjerdans while Nina knew she was laughing.
She guessed the boys hadn't had quite the same experience being jailed. The cell was dank and dirty, and they were surrounded by strangers who may well have been genuine criminals, but Nina may as well have been at home the way she carried on, pulling Inej into conversation.
Inej, if you won't talk to me, I'll sing.
You'll get yourself killed doing that, Inej had replied, a smile tugging at her lips despite herself.
She imagined Kaz and Jesper would have been much the same alone, but were probably less at ease with a grumpy bear and a skittish fawn in tow.
"That's much better," Jesper said.
Wylan glanced at him, then away again.
Inej threw his shirt at his head.
"Thank you, Inej," Jesper retorted. "It's okay, Wylan. You can look now."
"I apologize for thinking you might like privacy, Jesper, it won't happen again," Wylan said.
Inej heard his mistake even before Jesper acknowledged it: "I hope not."
"I apologize for my guests, Sveta," Wylan told the girl.
She didn't seem to mind.
After they left, Inej felt Wylan's attention drifting to her. She looked at him, but he looked away. She gave him a few more chances to say something. She wasn't surprised he didn't take them.
"Wylan?"
"I saw the books you had in the library," he explained. "You should use them."
A small pile of them. If Inej was being honest, she had fully intended if not to take them, at least to read them, but she hadn't wanted to flaunt it. Wylan couldn't use his own books.
She nodded.
"You're really serious about getting yourself a ship?" Jesper asked, falling back to join them. "And trying to avoid me? A man could be hurt!" he gasped, tossing an arm around each of their shoulders.
"Yes," Inej said, "and have you told Wylan about the time I climbed you?"
"You didn't," Wylan objected.
"I did," Inej said.
She hadn't precisely needed to—she could have scaled the wall—but…
"Like a squirrel," Jesper added. "All we needed to do was get through the back window at Judge Visser's country home, but we had counted on the painters' ladder being enough—this is hours outside the city."
"I know the place."
"I beg your pardon, merchling?"
"I've been to Judge Visser's country home. My mother and Mrs. Visser were friends."
Inej was intrigued by that—why hadn't Kaz tried to recruit a mercher's boy earlier? Maybe cultivated that relationship when he was still a respectable member of the household? They had needed to try to make Wylan useful in the Barrel. In his early days on Geldstraat, he would have been much better an asset.
She gave herself an internal shake. An idea to consider another time. Or not! Maybe she had spent too long in Kaz's company.
Unaware of her thoughts, Jesper replied, "Of course you have. Well, then you know there's nowhere nearby to get yourself a bigger ladder. So Inej told me to go up the ladder and see if I could reach the window. The next thing I know, there are these tiny hands grabbing hold of me—"
"I could reach the window from his shoulders."
"You stepped on my head."
"I could almost reach the window from his shoulders."