The first time he sees her, he can't see anything else. He's next to his brother, mouth open, a sweet in his lowered hand, and wearing his best clothes, but everything that seemed important just seconds ago vanishes when she appears. The lighting in the tent is low, ominous, and his hands are shaking, both from exhilaration and terror. But he doesn't notice. His eyes cannot move away from her, this tiny slip of a girl that defies reality. She balances, high above his head, body angled slightly forward, a long pole cradled in her hands. With ease, she not only challenges, but triumphs against the rules of this world, of gravity and physics. Entranced, he gawks, unable to breathe until she is safely across the wire as thin as a string of thread. When she reaches the other side of the wire, and steps with ease onto the raised platform that seems safe in comparison, he feels a great trepidation lift from his chest. But, it's not over.
Through the cheers of the crowd, the Ringmaster displays an almost comedic frown and bellows, "That seemed too easy, did it not?"
Several people call out a mixture of answers, but the show already has a plot, and the Ringmaster is just following the script.
"What if our little bird crossed the wire again, but without the pole?" He suggests, drawing a collective gasp from the crowd.
"What do you say, Little Bird?" The Ringmaster calls up to the lithe acrobat.
She places her hands on her hips in defiance and declares with an air of dignity, "I can do it without the pole! In fact, I can do it on my hands!"
There are screams of protest, ladies fanning themselves, gentlemen demanding for the show to stop, but the Little Bird has already discarded her pole. The Ringmaster begins to plead with her and repeats how dangerous the prospect is, but nothing he can say will stop her now that she is determined. She steps onto the wire with an expression of pure concentration, and with more elegance than a heron and more poise than a distinguished lady, she replaces her feet with her hands. Kaz's heart clenches, and he cannot stop himself from thinking that it is all fake. Surely, there was a trick to this display, some illusion? But no, he can see her frame, and how every muscle is straining from the effort. Sweat drips down her forehead, but if he didn't notice her tense body, Kaz would never have thought that the task was difficult from her expression of utter bliss. One hand over the next, she crosses the wire with expert agility. Until, that is, her hand slips. Kaz's heart is in his throat, and he can hear and see nothing but her. But she does not fall. Instead, she balances there, one hand clutching the wire, one held horizontal to her body. Slowly, she returns the hand to the wire and continues across it like nothing had ever happened. She is so close to the other platform now, within safety's grasp, but she pauses, still suspended thirty feet in the air with nothing between her and a miserable death except a barely visible wire. Kaz holds his breath, and watches, transfixed, as she bends her elbows and springs herself into the air. She twists midair, and somehow, miraculously, she lands on the platform on her feet, arms raised above her head in a demand for praise. When the crowd roars, Kaz's voice is among them, and he knows that something about his life has changed.
When he sees her again, he doesn't realize it's her. She's older now, but so is he, and her eyes tell him Ketterdam's broken her. Not that he's surprised. It broke him too. She wears silks tailored to her frame, but they still manage to make her look small. Fragile, even. Her deep, sorrowful eyes are lined with the charcoal colored cosmetics that he's seen other women wear to accentuate their eyes, but he thinks that she doesn't need it.
"I can help you," She whispers the words quickly, and he wonders if she needs him to help her more. He says nothing. Barely sparing her a glance, he limps past. But as she walks away, he pauses, listening. Despite the bells adorning her ankles and the floor that is all too prone to creak, he hears nothing as she moves away. Just as he'd heard nothing when she'd approached him. He has business that draws him away from the West Stave and the Menagerie, but his thoughts constantly stray back to her. A former talented acrobat with a daring streak turned slave and prostitute. While he tells himself that her extraordinary abilities are what draws him to her, his mind wanders to the dark coils of her hair, the unending and intoxicating pools of her eyes, and her voice, rich but full of desperation. He reminds himself that he is Dirtyhands, that he doesn't care about the abused and the mistreated, that they should fight for themselves like he had to do, but he still sends a spider to uncover every detail of the girl's indenture. When he hears her name, it seems...right. As if he'd only been granted ears in order to hear her name.
Inej.
Inej Ghafa, stolen from her family and hopes of innocence by traders and bought by a woman who had no intention of returning either. A deep, untamable fury writhes within his heart as he reads her contract, and before he can repeat his excuse about how useful she will be, he is already bargaining with Tante Heleen, already signing the papers and handing her the kruge. When Inej enters the parlor of the Menagerie, and Tante Heleen leaves, he can see the distaste in her eyes. Not for him, but the room itself. He can imagine the horrors she's been subjected to in this room, but that doesn't matter. Because the flash of disgust on her face, though brief, tells Kaz that she will walk out of that pleasure house with him. And that she will labor for him without complaint, because nothing is a better motivator than hatred. However, moments later, her eyes flicker once more, and he realizes that hatred, though within her, does not control her like it does him. No, as he gazes at her, leaning his gloved hands on his wicked cane, he sees a fire and determination etched into her features as clear as day. And he knows. His life's changed again.