Criminals and Saints

THEY WENT TO THE GENERAL. Nonna had done her best to heal the girl, but Zoya had hurried them off before she could finish. Guards grabbed the girl roughly by the arms to drag her forwards. Nonna trailed behind them, hardly a matter of interest at all.

As with most things to do with the General, the tent was all black. Grisha had already begun to collect. Those from the skiff already knew. Others were being alerted. Nonna stiffened as she entered. All eyes were on the girl and, in turn, her. She was deposited in the center of the tent. Nonna hurried to the side, blending into the crowd. Whispers arose from the group. She was Shu and First Army. What was she doing here?

"Bring her closer," General Kirigan ordered.

The girl stumbled as she was shoved forwards. Nonna winced. She'd been able to heal her fractured collar bone, but it was still fragile. They could have been a little more gentle.

"Closer."

The girl stepped forwards on her own.

"Well?" The General asked.

"Well, what? Sir," The girl said, the 'sir' thrown in at the end as if she'd almost forgotten it.

"What are you?"

"Alina Starkov, Assistant Cartographer, Royal Corps of Surveyors," The girl answered at once. Her face fell. "They're all gone...it's my fault. That's why I'm here, isn't it?"

The map. Nonna folded her hands behind her back, squeezing one tightly. She remembered, now, the mysteriously burnt maps. How it'd seemed too convenient. All of them destroyed, but only the ones on the opposite side of the Fold? Not a single another one? Impossible. Nonna couldn't believe it, not really. Alina had burnt the maps so...why? Why would anyone want to get sent it to the Fold?

"Answer the question," General Kirigan demanded. "What are you?"

"A...mapmaker, sir," Alina said.

Laughter rose from the crowd. A ridiculous answer, but it was a ridiculous question, wasn't it? What was she? How else to answer that? Still, they all fell silent at the General's command.

"So who actually saw what happened?" The General asked once they had quieted.

Silence. Alina stared into the crowd. Her eyes fell on Nonna and, in a fit of rash, pity-fueled stupidity, she stepped forwards.

"I did," Nonna instantly regretted speaking. All eyes were on her. She swallowed nervously. "I was with her and — and a tracker. Mal. He was hurt. In an attack, Volcra, and I tried to heal him, and Alina was grabbed." Whispers rose. Alina seemed rather unscathed for someone attacked by Volcra. "She glowed, sir. The Volcra fled and...and we returned."

There was no better way to put it.

"Our mapmaker," General Kirigan turned to Alina. "Is this true? Can you summon light?"

Alina only stared.

"Where did you grow up?"

That Alina could answer. "Keramzin."

"And when were you tested?"

Alina fell silent once more. The answer was obvious, though Kirigan continued to needle her as if it wasn't. She hadn't been tested.

There were many ways to find Grisha. Sometimes, their powers showed on their own. Others were found by the Little Palace's testers. A group of Grisha, one from each order, traveled Ravka once a year. They would stop in each town and test any new children that had appeared. Sometimes they used human amplifiers — Grisha with the ability to strengthen the powers of others. Others, because amplifiers were rare, let alone human ones, used a long pointed needle. It was fixed onto the finger like a claw and then used to cut the child. A sudden pain to cause a protective response.

It was this device that General Kirigan pulled from his sleeve.

Alina froze.

"Lift up your sleeve," Kirigan ordered.

"What's happening?" Alina asked.

"Your sleeve. Please."

Alina pulled up her sleeve. The General shoved it higher. He dragged the needle along her arm.

Yet, it didn't bleed. Instead, a bright light burst from the wound, a golden beam that shot through the tent's roof and filled the room with light. The same light Nonna had seen on the skiff. She stepped back, eyes wide with horror.

The General let go of Alina's arm. She pulled away. The light disappeared in wisps.

☼ ☼ ☼

IT WAS A RARE THING FOR KAZ BREKKER TO NOT KNOW WHAT TO DO. He always had some sort of plan. Then a backup plan for that plan, and a backup for his backup. Yet it was obvious for all of them that he didn't know a way across the Fold and couldn't seem to find one. One that didn't involve getting on a sand skiff, risking the Volcra's wrath, or wasting two months going around the Fold both ways. Neither were good.

Kaz was in luck. Serafima knew a way.

The Conductor had tried his damnedest to avoid anyone tracking him down. When they were brought on to his machine, bags had been placed over their heads. They only talked through others, never directly. The man barely spoke, and they were left with complete strangers. No one involved would give away his secret.

Unfortunately for him, Serafima was stubborn. Driven by a need to save her sister from the Little Palace, she'd dug through Ketterdam to get information. Anything on the man they called the Conductor.

The only thing that had stopped Serafima was the price. Her trip across had been free, as she had been brought through the Little Palace, but returning would not be the same. Serafima would have to pay the Conductor's staggering prices, something no one in the Barrel could afford, let alone her.

Until now. Now she had money. 

Pushing through the crowded Crow Club, Serafima passed the others and headed for Kaz's office. She found him there, as expected. Kaz wasn't one to spend his time around others. 

"Inej! Listen, I..." Kaz turned as he spoke. He faltered when he found it was not, in fact, Inej. Fantastic, he'd pissed off Inej. Again. "I'm working."

"I'm sure you are," Serafima said, matching Kaz's exasperated tone. "I know a way across the Fold."

"And you didn't think to mention this before?" Kaz said.

"I had to make sure he was in Ketterdam. No need to mention it if it's a dead end." Serafima explained. She didn't know why she felt the need to defend herself against Kaz's accusatory tone. She'd done nothing wrong.

"He?"

"The Conductor. He brought me across the Fold. All we need is money, and plenty of it."

"The reward," Kaz realized. Serafima nodded, and he narrowed his eyes at her. "Does this have anything to do with your sister?"

Serafima bit her tongue. How the hell had he known about Nonna? Oh, who was she kidding? It was Kaz Brekker. Kaz Brekker knew everything about everyone in the Barrel. Information was the best currency. How he'd made the connection wasn't a shock, either. It was like him to consider if her connection to someone in the Little Palace would distract her from the job.

It was tempting to say yes, it did. Tell the truth. Try to convince Kaz that there would be a benefit to getting Nonna. A gang in the barrel could always use their own personal healer.

But that wasn't Kaz Brekker. He didn't work with emotions. If Serafima so much as breathed the idea she wanted to rescue her sister as well she'd be off the team. She wouldn't be allowed anywhere close to the Little Palace. So she didn't.

More accurately, she didn't get a chance. Footsteps approached. Serafima turned in time to see men appear in the doorway. Two of them. Clearly expected to find Kaz alone. The four shared a glance.

Kaz struck first, driving his cane into the first man's stomach. The second swung a fist. Serafima caught his arm and twisted it. He went careening into the desk.

Using the chance, Serafima swung herself onto the man's back. In seconds, she'd dug her fingers into his eyes. He howled in pain, throwing himself backward. They nearly ran into Kaz and the first assailant, who had him in a chokehold. It was the last thing Serafima noticed before the man slammed into the wall. Hard. She wheezed as she was crushed. Her grip loosened. The man grabbed her arm and, jerking himself towards, sent her over his head. A foot landed itself in the center of her chest.

Serafima wrapped her legs around the man. She was about to twist it and dislocate his knee when someone joined them. The man pressed harder on her chest. Serafima released him and raised her head. Kaz was pinned to the floor, arm twisted behind his back. One wrong move and it'd come out of its socket. And across from...

Pekka Rollins. Of course.

"Now, what do we have here?" Pekka peered down at Serafima. She made sure to scowl her displeasure at him. He responded by poking her head with his toe. "You better hope you didn't take his eyes out, girl."

Serafima hoped she did. She hoped he never saw again. She hoped he got infected and suffered as his faced rotted out.

"Let her go. I'll be speaking to Mr.Brekker only," Pekka ordered, waving the man off.

The man hesitated. Serafima could see blood running from his ruined eyes, leaving thin lines down his cheeks. He'd want revenge, that was for certain. Still, an order was an order. He lifted his foot. Serafima considered kicking his leg out but decided against it.

Kaz wasn't spared a glance as she left. Inej might have done more. Tried to save him. But Kaz Brekker wasn't some damsel, he didn't need saved. If it turned into a beating, he'd take his beating, then he'd pay Pekka and his Dime Lions back tend fold. No. He didn't need Serafima galavanting around, playing knight and saving him from his rightful consequences. Making him look weak.

The others were still waiting where they were left. Jesper was still trying to goat people into making bets with him. Bets he never won, which somehow managed to hook him more than if he won every time.

"What did Kaz say?" Minke asked as soon as he caught sight of Serafima.

"Didn't get to that part. He's got visitors," Serafima answered. Inej glared at the shot glass in her hand. "He wanted to talk to you."

"Saints," Minke whistled and raised an eyebrow at Inej. "What'd he do this time?"

"What do you mean, 'what'd he do this time?'" Jesper asked.

"He's always done something. Have you ever seen Inej get angry over nothing?" Minke pointed out.

Jesper nodded. It was a good point.

"I'm not angry," Inej interrupted. She grabbed another shot.

"She said, angrily," Minke muttered.

As annoying as Minke's nagging was, it worked, as Inej continued, "He's obsessed with taking down Pekka Rollins."

"Of course he's obsessed with the one villain in town who's paid off the stadwatch to get away with literal murder," Jesper replied, taking his own shot. It was then Serafima became aware of the fact that Minke was the only one not drinking. "Thanks. Another one, Joe."

"Well, points for ambition, anyways," Minke offered.

Serafima wondered if she should mention Pekka Rollins being only rooms away. She decided against it. Knowing Jesper and Inej, they'd decide to do something disgustingly heroic and make it was their job to protect Kaz from big, bad Pekka Rollins, the Barrel's very own boogie man.

"No, it's more than that. I've seen the way Kaz looks when he says Pekka's name. Kaz wants revenge," Inej said.

"Well, I've never noticed that," Minke admitted.

"Not your fault. We don't all make a hobby out of staring at Kaz's face, do we?" Serafima quipped.

Inej might have glared at her if she wasn't interrupted by a man handing her a folded slip of paper. She took it and turned away from them. Minke leaned to look over her shoulder.

"Of course she calls for me now," Inej snapped as she whipped around the face them.

She could only be one person — Tante Heleen. The owner of the Menagerie and, technically, Inej. Slaver was illegal in Kerch, but everyone had their right to sell themselves off, protected by Ghezen himself. Their precious god of profit. So many people had been tricked into selling themselves into impossible indentures. Inej had been one of them, brought in as a child and forced to sign a document in a language she couldn't even read at the time.

Kaz was paying off her indenture, but until it was gone, she was still stuck with Heleen.

"Off to the Menagerie? Want company?" Jesper asked.

Inej stormed off.

"No, I meant to watch your back..." Jesper sighed. Inej was already gone.

"Smooth," Serafima mocked.

"Ought to burn that place to the ground," Minke grumbled with a sudden venom Serafima hadn't expected. He hunched his shoulders and glared at the seat Inej had once held. "If we're lucky, she'll be in it."

Kaz chose that moment to show up. Serafima was relieved. He looked shaken, but no worse for wear.

"You alright, boss?" Jesper asked.

Kaz sat and took Inej's abandoned shot.

"No," Kaz stated. A strange admission, given who said it. "I've been warned off the job."

"By who?" Jesper asked.

"And would it happen to rhyme with Rekka Pollins?" Minke added. Kaz's expression was answer enough. "I knew they'd come looking for us, I told you."

Which was exactly why Serafima thought his plan to hide the heartrender away in the Slat was a horrible one, but she didn't mention that part. What was done was done, and Minke had left Milana in a room with the nicest accommodations he could find all the sweets she could ask for. Spoiled her rotten, Serafima thought, and all because she passed out after Alexei was shot.

"Did he remember you?" Jesper prompted.

"If he had, I'd be dead," Kaz answered. Both Serafima and Minke perked up. They knew some vague things about Kaz having a history with Pekka, but nothing that would earn a death sentence. Kaz checked his watch. "Sunrise is in five hours."

"Yeah, but we're off the job, We're off the job now, right?" Jesper asked.

"And lose all that money to Pekka Rollins? Are you mad?" Minke protested. "I say this is a good thing! The man's threatened, we're clearly on the right path."

"Right path to the Reaper's Barge, maybe," Serafima grumbled. Still, Minke was right. They wouldn't be scared off, not now. Not with everything on the line.

"Never make decisions out of fear, Jesper. Only out of spite," Kaz scolded.

"Well, greed always worked for me," Jesper offered.

"Go guard the door," Kaz said. He turned to Serafima and added, "Take me to see your Conductor."

☼ ☼ ☼

ONCE AGAIN, GUARDS WERE RUSHING ALINA FROM THE TENT. This time they didn't want for Nonna. She ran to catch up with them.

"She isn't — I've told you, she isn't healed!" Nonna protested. "And stop throwing her around like that, you'll make it worse."

"Then you go with her," the guard said. He shoved Nonna in front of him, next to Alina.

Nonna huffed. Was that everyone's answer to everything? Sun summoner you or not, Alina needed to heal properly. If they just gave her a second, it wouldn't be an issue.

They were stood in front of a cart, already guarded by heartrenders. Just their luck. It wasn't that Nonna disliked heartrenders. Just...they tended to have an attitude about them. Named the highest Grisha, they were the General's preferred soldiers. Not for any special talent or rarity, but because they could destroy in ways no other could. It tended to go to their heads.

"You heard me. Let's go. Get in," the man at the door ordered. Ivan. They were stuck with Ivan.

"No," Alina snapped. Ivan seemed surprised she wouldn't listen right away. "There's been a mistake. I need to find Mal."

"Mal will be fine. I did most of the healing on the skiff, it's just a little patching up needed," Nonna assured.

"I—"

"The General does not make mistakes," Ivan interrupted. "His orders were to get you to the Little Palace immediately. Now get in the coach."

"Everyone makes mistakes. Look at me, do I look important to you?" Alina protested.

Nonna blinked. Was that a rhetorical question?

"You look like trouble. Which is nearly the same," Ivan corrected. He turned to Nonna and demanded, "Tell her to get in the coach."

"She's not in charge of me," Alina protested.

"I'm not in charge of her," Nonna said at the same time.

"Malyen Oretsev. He's in the medic tent. I need to speak to him. I'm going to speak to him," Alina demanded.

Alina started to leave, but Ivan quickly caught her. Nonna tensed. She didn't want to start a fight.

"Every spy in the area will soon hear what you did, and our enemies will come for you. Our only chance is to get you to Os Alta, behind palace walls, before you get killed. Come on."

With that, Ivan dragged Alina onto the couch. She started to jump out, but Nonna climbing in stopped her. She scowled at all three of them — Nonna, Ivan, and Fedyor, who was already waiting on the couch. If looks could kill...

"You're angry with us," Nonna observed.

Alina glared harder.

"It isn't our fault, you know," Nonna continued as if Alina had answered. The couch was too small for everyone to be angry at each other. "And Mal isn't gone forever. You could invite him to the Little Palace, once you get settled."

No response. Nonna sighed and went to work fixing Alina's collar bone fully. As expected, they'd set her back some, but she healed it up quickly.

"This is Fedyor," said Ivan, who'd somehow gotten stuck with introduction. "That is Nonna."

"I know her," Alina grumbled.

"Pleasure to meet you," Fedyor offered. He was the only one pleased. When he spotted Alina fidgeting with the healer's kefta they'd hastily thrown on her, he explained, "They call this a kefta. It's bulletproof. The uniform of the Second Army."

"That's a healer's. Like mine," Nonna added, motioning to the grey embroidery both their kefta's shared. Her eyes fell to the scar Alina was studying. A thick, ugly line across her palm. "How that'd happen?"

"What about the First Army? Back in Kribrisk. A thousand soldiers marched with us. Isn't that safer?" Alina blurted out.

"Slower, not safer. Not really," Ivan said.

"Spies hide better in crowds. And assassins," Nonna explained.

Alina looked away.

"If you left me with the cartography unit, no one would look twice at us," Alina continued.

"They would if they knew you were a cartographer," Nonna corrected. After a moment, mildly hurt by Alina's refusal to even accept the Grisha's help, she asked, "Do you really hate us that much?"

"No! I don't — I just thought —" Alina sputtered. Nonna shook her head.

"Why is that?" Fedyor interrupted. "You summon pure sunlight. Your kind of Etherealki has just been a theory, a picture in a storybook. Until now. You're a very special girl, so, how has no one looked twice at you before?"

"Are you joking?" Alina snapped. Fedyor tilted his head. Maybe Alina wasn't used to it, but he was rarely less than sincere. "Maybe it's nicer inside the walls of Little Palace, but out here, when you're different, when you look different, everything's at risk of becoming a fight."

Nonna clenched her jaw and looked away. Of course. It was always the same, really. Grisha was persecuted. Tortured, executed, experimented on, sold into slavery, all of existing. Then they got one safe place — one home — and the people acted like they were privileged scum. How dare Grisha claim oppression, look at their nice castle and pretty clothes. In Ravka. Only in Ravka.

"Do you know why the Little Palace has walls in the first place? Hmm?" Ivan said. "Because for years, being Grisha was a death sentence. At least now, thanks to General Kirigan, we're protected. Feared. And that's how we survive. Not by being overlooked, but by making them look, and knowing you're powerful."

"So, yes, Alina Starkov. Maybe it is nicer inside the walls of the Little Palace," Nonna seethed. "Because it doesn't matter how you look when your Grisha."

"I've survived long enough without your protection. Thank you," Alina said.

"But you wouldn't last a minute now that you are you," Fedyor pointed out. "All of Ravka has been waiting for you."

"I get it. The whole country wants to see the Fold gone."

Did she? Nonna leaned back in her seat. It wasn't just about removing the Fold. It was reuniting a torn country, bringing together lost families. Keeping them from civil war...

"But it's bigger than that. You are hope for the country, yes, but a myth come true for a Grisha. It was a Grisha who created the Fold. If a Grisha destroys it, maybe..." Fedyor glanced over at Ivan and sighed. "Maybe we wouldn't need those high walls to protect us anymore."

The cart slowed to a stop. A soldier shouted about the road being blocked. The sound of new voices joined in. Nonna swallowed. She knew the language, even if she couldn't make out the words. Fjerdan. An ambush.

The heartrenders left, leaving only Alina and Nonna on the couch. Nonna tightened her hands into fists. There was a blade in her boot, but it was her only weapon. She was a healer, not a fighter. She could attempt heartrending, it was taught to all corporalki and much easier than healing, given tearing things apart required none of the finesse, but she wasn't trained fully. She couldn't take on multiple enemies, she didn't know what organs to go for first (aside from the obvious, the heart and lungs.)

"Drüskelle —" 

The cry was cut short. Bullets rung out. Horses and soldiers fell at once.

Drüskelle. An corp of them, from the sounds of it. They were doomed.

"Come on," Nonna grabbed Alina by the arm and hauled her towards the door. "We need to run, now."

"But they said —" Alina protested.

"Now you listen to Ivan?" Nonna snapped. "It's a distraction. They'll be here for you in seconds. They're Drüskelle, there's nothing we can do for the others, but we can get you out of here." Alina started to protest. Nonna quickly shushed her. "Ravka needs you."

With that, Nonna threw open the door and tossed Alina out in front of her. There was a thud. She had whacked a Drüskelle in the face, knocking him to the ground. She stomped his head just in case. The two fled.

Bullets and and screams filled the air. Dirt flew as bullets it the ground. They all seemed to be coming from one direction. Trees whipped past. The drüskelle hadn't noticed them. That or they had developed a new sense of stealth. Nonna continued to run blindly, dragging Alina behind her. Fear clawed it's way up her throat. She knew it was cowardly to run from a fight, but Drüskelle were near unbeatable, and Alina had to survive.

Something heavy slammed into Nonna shoulder. The force sent of off balance and to the group. Pain blossomed along her shoulder blade. Alina screamed. Dazed, Nonna peered down at her chest. An arrow protruded between her arm and chest, seemingly only just caught her in the side. Wetness spread along her kefta, the red blood blending in with the fabric.

"Ouch..." Nonna mumbled.

Feet appeared in the corner of Nonna's vision. Her attention sharpened. Drüskelle had closed in on them. She scrambled to her feet. Nonna wobbled on her feet. She went to raise her arms — a poor attempt at a threat — but only one responded. Laughter rumbled along the gathering drüskelle.

"I'm not Grisha! I'm not Grisha!" Alina sobbed. She stumbled away from their attackers, only managing to collapse against a tree. Pinned.

"Let her go!" Nonna tried to straighten. She grimaced and forced her good arm towards the drüskelle. Taking out the arrow would allow her to move both arms, but it would end in bleeding out much faster. Three drüskelle. One pinning Alina, the others slowly circling them. "I said let her go, or else!"

"Or else?" One of the drüskelle repeated. Nonna blinked, surprised he spoke Ravkan. "You'll heal us, witch?"

Damn her kefta. Damn drüskelle who memorized what their colors meant.

Still, Nonna was still a soldier of the Second Army. She was still Grisha, and she could still feel their heart beat. Nonna raised a shaking hand. Focusing on the one closest to Alina, she took hold of their heart. At once she could feel his wounds start to mend themselves. Then, as if ripping apart a seam, she tore it away. She closed her fist and wrenched her arm down.

The drüskelle gave a wet cough. Blood flecked his lips. He dropped like a rock.

Nonna gawked at the fallen body. It worked.

Then the second drüskelle lowered his gun. The bullet hit Nonna square in the chest and sent her across the clear. She lay prone, gasping for air, wind knocked out of her. It hadn't pierced. Keftas were bullet proof, Nonna remembered dully. Not arrow proof, though.

Exhausted, Nonna pawed at the arrow. She could hear Alina screaming. Screaming. The arrow head sliced open her palm as she snapped the end. Slowly, she rolled over, reached her good arm around, and yanked the arrow free. Blood gushed over her fingers. Twisting her palms together, Nonna forced it to knit back together. Heal. As fast as possible. Please.

A shadow fell over the clearing. Nonna's thoughts were cut short by a crack. She sat up. Her head spun, but though the haze she could make out the drüskelle's bodies sprawl out on the ground. A man in a dark cloak (the General, Nonna realized) was crouched over Alina. He pulled her to her feet.

"Are you hurt?" Kirigan asked.

"No, not really," Alina pointed shakily at Nonna. "She — she was shot."

"She's fine now," Kirigan observed.

It was true. Caked in blood, yes, but no longer bleeding to death. Nonna let out a sigh of relief.

"So are the others," Kirigan held out a hand to Alina. "You ride with me."

"Wait! I don't want to leave her," Alina tried to look confident, but it wasn't working. A line of blood went diagonal along her face and her lip quivered. "I won't leave without her. I trust her."

And I don't trust you, the silence seemed to add.

The General studied Nonna for a moment. She got the feeling it was the first time he actually had. Finally, he relented. He turned and headed back the way he came.

Serafima really looked at Kaz getting threatened and went "that's a you problem, love" didn't she? Sorry to the Kaz stans out there.