Night of Masks and Knives (The Broken Kingdoms Book 4)
Night of Masks and Knives: Book 1 – Chapter 6

“Where are we going?”

″The docks,” Ansel said. “I promised to help you with this reckless idea, so the docks are where we must go.”

I tangled my fingers together, stomach tight. The moment Elof left me last night, I’d pounded on Ansel’s door. His eyes were heavy and burdened. Together we’d commiserated over what had become of Hagen, then I’d asked him what he knew of the Nightrender and a deal they’d made together.

I’d almost expected him to balk at the claim, but his shoulders sunk, and his frown deepened.

He’d confessed he had once made a deal with the Hells, and now we were here, crossing the bridge to the docks near the Howl to do it again.

″Ansel,” I whispered. “Will you tell me details of your deal with the Nightrender?”

He closed his eyes for half a breath and stopped us near an overturned skiff. Without thought—or care—for the rusted color of lichens and hardened sea moss, he slumped against the keel of the boat.

″I had no way to save Dain.”

Dain? His son was full of mischief and loved to poke at the raven nests in the trees surrounding the manor. “What about Dain?”

″After his fever, his heart . . . it was killing him, Malin. No healers would even try. I don’t believe their medicines would’ve worked. But Sigurd—the man I’m taking you to now—he told me there was help to be found in the Guild of Kryv.”

″The Nightrender helped Dain? I thought he was hateful.”

Ansel’s scoff burned of bitterness. “He made a deal, Malin. Nothing comes from the goodness of his heart, I assure you. But I cannot despise the choice. Dain lives, and the Guild of Kryv keeps their bargains.” Ansel gripped my hands in his. “Malin, don’t do this. The Nightrender will own you.”

″Like you, I fear I have no choice. You just said you do not regret saving Dain’s life. What if this saves Hagen?”

There was a part of me that hoped this barter could grant two desires. Find my brother and find Kase.

Ansel’s chin fell to his chest. “Are you certain? I will take you back if you choose otherwise. Don’t mistake me. We can find another way for Dain to receive—”

My hand on his cheek silenced him. “Ansel.” I waited until he looked at me. “I’m certain.”

With a nod and a kiss to the back of my hand, he straightened. “This way then.”

At the edge of the water district, browned butter and minced fowl wafted in the air. An empty hole had replaced my insides and my stomach turned greedy.

Dingy swells lapped against the hulls of schooners, longships, cutters, and trade ships; the sound helped keep a steady beat to my heart. Cobbled streets were always damp and muddy from constant sea boots marching back and forth, and green moss with speckles of yellow coated the storefronts from the constant wet breeze.

I added speed to my pace to catch up as Ansel led us down a narrow alley.

In the smaller, grungier neighborhood the air grew heady with oil, sweat, and hickory smoke. Flea racks lined the walks, all filled with secondhand dresses, shoes, and worship suits. The meager market was nothing but a few wooden carts where merchants sold bushels of leeks, boiling potatoes, or turnips to those who could afford them.

At the end of the lane, a sign hung over the steel shop door. The building leaned a little from old walls made of barnwood laths.

The stoop groaned under our weight, and inside someone hummed a spritely tune. Ansel pounded on the door, and we waited for half a breath. He knocked again. Nothing. Two more aggressive pounds and the door ripped open, a sweaty man in the frame.

″Gods, I said I was coming!” The stranger furrowed his brow but smiled when he recognized the grounds master. “Ansel, I’ve not seen you in a long while, my friend.”

″And I’m afraid I cannot stay long, Sigurd.” He lowered his voice. “This is Malin Strom; she has need of your more immoral connections.”

″She willing to pay?”

″Anything,” I told him, even if I didn’t have a copper penge to my name.

″Then come in.”

Ansel tapped my shoulder. “You will be in good hands.” My throat tightened as he drew me against his chest. Once he released me, Ansel used his thumb to tilt my chin up. “Sigurd will know how to reach me should you need anything.”

Without a look back, Ansel slipped his hood over his head and disappeared into the crowds.

″Sounds as if you’ve had quite a night,” Sigurd said. He opened one arm into his shop. “Shall we?”

Inside, counters were covered in steel plates, countless bolts, and nails for wheels and spokes. Coaches, phaetons, and a few armored chest plates in various stages of disassembly stacked the shelves in the back. Silver shavings dusted the floor, and there was a hint of oil and coffee in the air.

The steelman took in my ragged appearance, then leveraged one hip at a time onto the edge of a countertop.

″Well, get on with it,” he said, but did with a smile. Like he was thrilled to have a story to hear. “What happened?”

″My brother was imprisoned by the masquerade, and I plan to free him.”

Sigurd’s eyes widened. “Oh, is that all?”

My scalp prickled in disquiet. “Will you be able to help me?”

″Dännisk Strom, no one in their sound mind would touch the Masque av Aska.”

″Is that a no then?”

″You didn’t let me finish. I never said my connections were sound in their minds. Merely saying what you’re asking hasn’t been done. It’d be simpler to break into a sea prison than step behind the curtains of the masquerade. Especially this turn with Lord Niall seeking a bride.”

″Then I will die trying.” I refused to stop searching.

Sigurd scratched his chin. “You know what you’re asking, yes?”

“Yes, I’m asking for your help since you have a way to contact the Guild of Kryv.”

He grinned as if he were quite proud of the truth.

My eyes flicked to the missing fingertip on his left hand, a jagged cut, and I wondered about his life. What drew a merchant to associate with the underbelly? He would be respected, possibly a lifelong member of a guild. Why risk a comfortable life to arrange shady cons and ploys?

″I warn you they are not the sort you want to take lightly,” Sigurd said. “If you agree to their terms, you must honor the deal, or, forgive my bluntness, the skydguard will find pieces of you from the fjord to the Northern Cliffs.”

Three hells. I licked my lips. “They can truly help?”

″The Kryv have a particular distaste for the Lord Magnate; don’t ask me why, I don’t know. And they enjoy causing him a few aches and pains with their schemes. If you want a guild willing to do anything to get your brother back, then I don’t think you can stoop lower into the gutter than the Kryv.”

″I must ask how you know them if they are so terrible.”

He smirked. “I’ve stepped into the gutter a few times myself. Helped smuggle out a few cheer boys and girls here and there. I don’t like cheer houses for my own reasons, and my deals usually end in cheeries finding new lives elsewhere.”

I lifted a brow. Cheer houses were brutal brothels that did not give up their workers easily. “Impressive.”

″If you’re here in earnest,” he said. “I’ll arrange a meet.”

″Arrange it,” I said, the tremor in my voice gave way to how terrified I truly was.

Sigurd drummed his fingers over the countertop, but a smile spread over his lips. “As you say.”

Sigurd wasted no time reaching out to the Guild of Kryv. The bleeding Nightrender.

What the hells was I doing? More than swiping memories from the corpses of the masquerade or street hawkers, this was a man who tormented the entire kingdom with his dark wishes.

For nearly three hours I’d been left alone in Sigurd’s apartment above the steel house. Only my thoughts kept me company. Restlessness had me pacing from wall to wall, tugging at my hair, sitting, then standing. I could not keep still.

At the back of the sleeping chamber was a standing wash stall with a drain in the center and a rather clever pulley contraption to draw water from a well below the window.

Alone, with nothing more to do but fret, I scrubbed the grime under my fingernails, washed dirt from the wooden raven around my neck, scrubbed away the sweat and oil from the steel shop. I washed until my skin grew pink and raw.

Refusing to stroll through the apartment in nothing but a thin linen, I took the liberty of borrowing one of Sigurd’s long tunic tops folded on a narrow shelf in the stall. Sigurd was a bear of a man, so his shirt struck low on my knees.

Dressed and clean, I crossed from the washroom to the narrow bedroom.

″Comfortable?”

I startled, holding a hand to my chest, but almost smiled when Sigurd winked from a tattered stuffed chair near the window.

″I hope you don’t mind.” I gestured at the tunic.

″A naked woman wearing my shirt? Not at all.”

My cheeks filled with heat, but Sigurd didn’t tease me again.

″I didn’t know when you’d return,” I said, slowly braiding my damp hair over one shoulder. “Any luck?”

Sigurd rocked in the chair, holding my gaze for a few uncomfortable heartbeats. “Yes.” He stopped rocking, slapped his thighs, and stood. “I expect company any moment.”

My throat dried like a quick swallow of sand. At my sides, I dug the curves of my fingernails into the meat of my palms to hide the tension in my body.

″Be certain you wish to go forward, dännisk.”

I wasn’t certain about anything. The nearer the moment came to meeting the Guild of Kryv the more I thought it would be better to run back to House Strom and stay hidden in my cold loft until I crossed into the Otherworld.

I hesitated and fought to keep my voice steady. “I’m ready.”

Sigurd tilted his head, a smile in his gray eyes. “There is time to give this more thought. Sometimes life is unkind, like what happened to your brother. But at every wretched thing, it doesn’t mean we must run into the fire and get killed in the process.”

″Why are you saying this? Do you think the Kryv will kill me?”

″I think you should be as clever if not cleverer than the Kryv, and certainly never trust them fully. But I do not think they are so cold-blooded as slitting your throat on the first meet. After that, I don’t know. I’ve never worked with them for long.”

″How did you come to know them?”

Sigurd winked. “Ah, that is a story for another day. But trust that I know they work on their own set of rules. Are you ready to do what might be asked of you? Taking on the Black Palace and the Masque av Aska is risky business. What means do you have to defend yourself?”

″I know how to use a blade.”

″So do skydguard. So do Kryv.”

″I’ll be fine,” I insisted.

Sigurd opened his mouth as if to argue, but someone rapped at the door in the shop below our feet. With a heavy sigh, the steelman proffered a defeated kind of smile. “I hope so, dännisk Strom. Because time is up. They’re here.”

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