Crooked Kingdom (56 page)

Kuwei, Kaz, and Matthias climbed the stage and took their places by the podium, Kaz and Matthias partially blocking the still shaking Kuwei from view.

Radmakker waited for absolute quiet. Only then did he begin to recite the rules of the auction, followed by the terms of Kuwei's proffered indenture. Inej glanced at Van Eck. What was it like for him to be so close to the prize he'd sought for so long? His expression was smug, eager.
He's already calculating his next move
, Inej realized. As long as Ravka did not have the winning bid—and how could they, with their war chest badly depleted—Van Eck would get his wish: the secret of
jurda parem
unleashed upon the world. The price of
jurda
would rise to unimaginable heights, and between his secret private holdings and his investments in the
jurda
consortium run by Johannus Rietveld, he would be rich beyond all dreaming.

Radmakker waved forward a medik from the university, a man with a shiny bald pate. He took Kuwei's pulse, measured his height, listened to his lungs, examined his tongue and teeth. It was a bizarre spectacle, uncomfortably close to Inej's memory of being prodded and poked by Tante Heleen on the deck of a slaver ship.

The medik finished and closed up his bag.

“Please make your declaration,” said Radmakker.

“The boy's health is sound.”

Radmakker turned to Kuwei. “Do you freely consent to abide by the rules of this auction and its outcome?”

If Kuwei replied, Inej couldn't hear it.

“Speak up, boy.”

Kuwei tried again. “I do.”

“Then let us proceed.” The medik stepped down and Radmakker lifted his gavel once more. “Kuwei Yul-Bo freely gives his consent to these proceedings and hereby offers his service for a fair price as guided by Ghezen's hand. All bids will be made in
kruge
. Bidders are instructed to keep silence when not making offers. Any interference in this auction, any bid made in less than good faith will be punished to the fullest extent of Kerch law. The bidding will start at one million
kruge
.” He paused. “In Ghezen's name, let the auction commence.”

And then it was happening, a clamor of numbers Inej could barely track, the bids climbing as Radmakker jabbed his gavel at each bidder, repeating the offers in staccato bursts.

“Five million
kruge
,” the Shu ambassador shouted.

“Five million,” repeated Radmakker. “Do I have six?”

“Six,” the Fjerdans countered.

Radmakker's bark ricocheted off the cathedral walls like gunfire. Sturmhond waited, letting the Fjerdans and Shu bat numbers back and forth, the Zemeni delegate occasionally upping the price in more cautious increments, trying to slow the bidding's momentum. The Kaelish sat quietly in their pews, observing the proceedings. Inej wondered how much they knew, and if they were unwilling or simply unable to bid.

People were standing now, unable to keep to their seats. It was a warm day, but the activity in the cathedral seemed to have driven the temperature higher. Inej could see people fanning themselves, and even the members of the Merchant Council, gathered like a jury of magpies, had begun to dab at their brows.

When the bidding hit forty million
kruge
, Sturmhond finally raised his hand.

“Fifty million
kruge
,” he said. The Church of Barter fell silent.

Even Radmakker paused, his cool demeanor shaken, before he repeated, “Fifty million
kruge
from the Ravkan delegation.” The members of the Merchant Council were whispering to one another behind their palms, no doubt thrilled at the commission they were about to earn on Kuwei's price.

“Do I hear another offer?” Radmakker asked.

The Shu were conferring. The Fjerdans were doing the same, though they seemed to be arguing more than discussing. The Zemeni appeared to be waiting to see what would happen next.

“Sixty million
kruge
,” the Shu declared.

A counter-raise of ten million. Just as Kaz had anticipated.

The Fjerdans offered next, at sixty million two hundred thousand. You could see it cost their pride something to move in such a small increment, but the Zemeni seemed eager to cool down the bidding too. They bid at sixty million five hundred thousand.

The rhythm of the auction changed, climbing at a slower pace, hovering below sixty-two million until at last that milestone was reached, and the Shu seemed to grow impatient.

“Seventy million
kruge
,” said the Shu ambassador.

“Eighty million,” called Sturmhond.

“Ninety million.” The Shu weren't bothering to wait for Radmakker now.

Even from her perch, Inej could see Kuwei's pale, panic-stricken face. The numbers had gone too high, too fast.

“Ninety-one million,” Sturmhond said in a belated attempt to slow the pace.

As if he'd grown tired of the game, the Shu ambassador stepped forward and roared, “One hundred and ten million
kruge
.”

“One hundred and ten million
kruge
from the Shu delegation,” cried Radmakker, his calm obliterated by the sum. “Do I hear another offer?”

The Church of Barter was silent, as if all those assembled had bent their heads in prayer.

Sturmhond gave a jagged-edged laugh and shrugged. “One hundred and twenty million
kruge
.”

Inej bit her lip so hard she drew blood.

Boom.
The massive double doors blew open. A wave of seawater crashed through into the nave, frothing between the pews, then vanishing in a cloud of mist. The crowd's excited chatter turned to startled cries.

Fifteen figures cloaked in blue filed inside, their robes billowing as if captured by an invisible wind, their faces obscured by mist.

People were calling for their weapons; some were clutching one another and screaming. Inej saw a mercher hunched over, frantically fanning his unconscious wife.

The figures glided up the aisle, their garments moving in slow ripples.

“We are the Council of Tides,” said the blue-cloaked figure in the lead, a female voice, low and commanding. The mist shrouded her face completely, shifting beneath her hood in a continuously changing mask. “This auction is a sham.”

Shocked murmurs rose from the crowd.

Inej heard Radmakker call for order, and then she was dodging left, moving on instinct as she heard a soft
whoosh
. A tiny, circular blade cut past her, slicing the sleeve of her tunic and pinging off the copper roof.

“That was a warning,” said Dunyasha. She perched on the scrollwork of one of the spires thirty feet from Inej, her ivory hood raised around her face, bright as new snow beneath the afternoon sun. “I will look you in the eye when I send you to your death.”

Inej reached for her knives. Her shadow demanded an answer.

 

PART SIX

A
CTION
& E
CHO

 

33

M
ATTHIAS

Matthias held his body quiet, taking in the chaos that had erupted over the Church of Barter. He was keenly aware of the Council members seated behind him, a flock of black-suited ravens squawking at one another, each louder than the next—all but Van Eck, who had settled deeply into his chair, his fingers tented before him, a look of supreme satisfaction on his face. Matthias could see the man called Pekka Rollins leaning on a column in the eastern arcade. He suspected that the gang boss had deliberately positioned himself in Kaz's line of vision.

Radmakker demanded order, his voice rising, the tufts of his pale orange hair quivering with every bang of his gavel. It was hard to tell what had riled up the room more—the possibility that the auction was fixed or the appearance of the Council of Tides. Kaz claimed that no one knew the identities of the Tides—and if Dirtyhands and the Wraith could not suss out such a secret, then no one could. Apparently, they had last appeared in public twenty-five years before to protest the proposed destruction of one of the obelisk towers to create a new shipyard. When the vote had not gone in their favor, they'd sent a huge wave to crush the Stadhall. The Council had reversed themselves and a new Stadhall had been erected on the old site, one with fewer windows and a stronger foundation. Matthias wondered if he would ever grow used to such stories of Grisha power.

It's just another weapon.
Its nature depends on who wields it.
He would have to keep reminding himself. The thoughts of hatred were so old they had become instincts. That was not something he could cure overnight. Like Nina with
parem
, it might well be a lifelong fight. By now, she would be deep into her assignment in the Barrel. Or she might have been discovered and arrested. He sent up a prayer to Djel.
Keep her safe while I cannot.

His eyes strayed to the Fjerdan delegation gathered in the front pews and the
drüskelle
there. He knew many of them by name, and they certainly knew him. He could feel the sharp edge of their disgust. One boy glared at him from the first row, quivering with fury, eyes like glaciers, hair so blond it was nearly white. What wounds had his commanders exploited to put that look in his eyes? Matthias held his gaze steadily, taking the brunt of his rage. He could not hate this boy. He'd been him. Eventually, the ice-haired boy looked away.

“The auction is sanctioned by law!” shouted the Shu ambassador. “You have no right to stop the proceedings.”

The Tidemakers raised their arms. Another wave crashed through the open doors and roared down the aisle, arcing over the heads of the Shu and hovering there.

“Silence,” demanded the lead Tidemaker. She waited for another protest, and when none came, the wave curved backward and sloshed harmlessly to the floor. It slithered up the aisle like a silver snake. “We have received word that these proceedings have been compromised.”

Matthias' eyes darted to Sturmhond. The privateer had schooled his features into mild surprise, but even from the stage, Matthias could sense his fear and worry. Kuwei was trembling, eyes closed, whispering to himself in Shu. Matthias could not tell what Kaz was thinking. He never could.

“The rules of the auction are clear,” said the Tidemaker. “Neither the indenture nor his representatives are permitted to interfere with the auction's outcome. The market must decide.”

The members of the Merchant Council were on their feet now, demanding answers, gathering around Radmakker at the front of the stage. Van Eck made a great show of shouting along with the others, but he paused beside Kaz, and Matthias heard him murmur, “Here I thought I would have to be the one to reveal your scheme with the Ravkans, but it seems the Tides will have the honor.” His mouth curved in a satisfied smile. “Wylan took quite a beating before he gave you and your friends up,” he said, moving toward the podium. “I never knew the boy had so much spine.”

“A false fund was created to swindle honest merchants out of their money,” continued the Tidemaker. “That money was funneled to one of the bidders.”

“Of course!” said Van Eck in mock surprise. “The Ravkans! We all knew they didn't have the funds to bid competitively in such an auction!” Matthias could hear how greatly he was enjoying himself. “We're aware of how much money the Ravkan crown has borrowed from us over the last two years. They can barely make their interest payments. They don't have one hundred and twenty million
kruge
ready to bid in an open auction. Brekker must be working with them.”

All the bidders were out of their seats now. The Fjerdans were shouting for justice. The Shu had begun stamping their feet and banging on the backs of the pews. The Ravkans stood in the middle of the maelstrom, surrounded by enemies on every side. Sturmhond, Genya, and Zoya were at the center of it all, chins held high.

“Do something,” Matthias growled at Kaz. “This is about to turn ugly.”

Kaz's face was as impassive as always. “Do you think so?”

“Damn it, Brekker. You—”

The Tides raised their arms and the church shook with another resonant
boom
. Water sloshed in through the windows of the upper balcony. The crowd quieted, but the silence was hardly complete. It seethed with angry murmurs.

Radmakker banged his gavel, attempting to reassert some authority. “If you have evidence against the Ravkans—”

The Tidemaker spoke from behind her mask of mist. “The Ravkans have nothing to do with this. The money was transferred to the Shu.”

Van Eck blinked, then changed tack. “Well then, Brekker struck some kind of deal with the Shu.”

Instantly, the Shu were shouting their denials, but the Tidemaker's voice was louder.

“The false fund was created by Johannus Rietveld and Jan Van Eck.”

Van Eck's face went white. “No, that's not right.”

“Rietveld is a farmer,” stammered Karl Dryden. “I met him myself.”

The Tidemaker turned on Dryden. “Both you and Jan Van Eck were seen meeting with Rietveld in the lobby of the Geldrenner Hotel.”

“Yes, but it was for a fund, a
jurda
consortium, an honest business venture.”

“Radmakker,” said Van Eck. “You were there. You met with Rietveld.”

Radmakker's nostrils flared. “I know nothing of this Mister Rietveld.”

“But I saw you. We both saw you at the Geldrenner—”

“I was there for a presentation on Zemeni oil futures. It was most peculiar, but what of it?”

“No,” said Van Eck, shaking his head. “If Rietveld is involved, Brekker is behind it. He must have hired Rietveld to swindle the Council.”

“Every one of us put money into that fund at your encouragement,” said one of the other councilmen. “Are you saying it's all gone?”