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"Do not bend," Nina snapped. "Do not leap. Do not move abruptly. If youdon`t promise to take it easy, I`ll slow your heart and keep you in a coma until I can be sure you`ve recovered fully." "Nina Zenik, as soon as I figure out where you`ve put my knvies, we`re going to have words." "The first ones had better be 'Thank you, oh great Nina, for dedicating every waking moment of this miserable journey to saving my sorry life.'" Jesper expected Inej to laugh and was startled when she took Nina`s face between her hands and said, "Thank you for keeping me in this world when fate seemed determined to drag me to the next. I owe you a life debt." Nina blushed deeply. "I was teasing, Inej." She paused. "I think we`ve both had enough of debts." "This is one I`m glad to bear." "Okay, okay. When we`re back in Ketterdam, take me out for waffles."

"I can tell you how this one ends," she said on an unsteady breath. "But you`re not going to like it." "That so?" He slammed her up against the crate, and pain crashed through her. Her toes only brushed the ground as blood spurted from the wound at her side. Oomen`s forearm was braced against her shoulders, keeping her arms pinned. "Do you know the secret to fighting a scorpion?" He laughed. "Talking nonsense, Wraith? Don`t die too quick. Need to get you patched up." She crossed one ankle behind the other and heart a reassuring click. She wore the pads at her knees for crawling and climbing, but there was another reason, too -- namely, the tiny steel blades hidden in each of them. "The secret," she panted, "is to never take your eyes off the scorpion`s tail." She brought her knee up, jaming the blade between Oomen`s legs.

"What makes you think we can do this? There will be other teams out there, trained soldiers and spies, people with years of experience." "This isn`t a job for trained soldiers and spies. It`s a job for thugs and thieves. Van Eck knows it, and that`s why he brought us in." "You can`t spend his money if you`re dead." "I`ll acquire expensive habits in the afterlife." "There`s a difference between confidence and arrogance." He`d turned his back on her then, giving each of his gloves a sharp tug. "And when I want a sermon on that, I know who to come to. If you want out, just say so."

"Why do you wear the gloves, Mister Brekker?" Kaz raised a brow. "I`m sure you`ve heard the stories." "Each more grotesque than the last." Kaz had heard them, too. Brekker`s hands were stained with blood. Brekker`s hands were covered in scars. Brekker had claws and not fingers because he was part demon. Brekker`s touch burned like brimstone -- a single brush of his bare skin caused your flesh to wither and die. "Pick one," Kaz said as he vanished into the night, thoughts already turning to thirty million kruge and the crew he`d need to help him get it. "They`re all true enough."

"Go on, give those guns over," Dirix said to Jesper. With a great sigh, Jesper removed the gunbelts at his hips. She had to admit he looked less himself without them. The Zemeni sharpshooter was long-limbed, brown-skinned, constantly in motion. He pressed his lips to the pearl handles of his prized revolvers, bestowing each with a mournful kiss. "Take good care of my babies," Jesper said as he handed them over to Dirix. "If I see a single scratch or nick on those, I`ll spell forgive me on your chest with bullet holes." "You won`t waste the ammo." "And he`d be dead halfway through forgive," Bill Bolliger said as he dropped a hatchet, a switchblade, and his preferred weapon -- a thick chain weighted with a heavy padlock -- into Rotty`s expectant hands. Jesper rolled his eyes. "It`s about sending a message. What`s the point of a dead guy with forg written on his chest?" "Compromise," Kaz said. "I`m sorry does the trick and uses fewer bullets." Dirix laughed, but Inej noted that he cradled Jesper`s revolvers very gently.

Kaz Brekker didn`t need a reason. Those were the words whispered on the streets of Ketterdam, in the taverns and coffeehouses, in the dark and bleeding alleys of the pleasure district known as the Barrel. The boy they called Dirtyhands didn`t need a reason any more than he needed permission -- to break a leg, sever an alliance, or change a man`s fortunes with the turn of a card. Of course they were wrong, Inej considered as she crossed the bridge over the black waters of the Beurscanal to the deserted main square that fronted the Exchange. Every act of violence was deliberate, and every favour came with enough strings attached to stage a puppet show. Kaz always had his reasons. Inej could just never be sure they were good ones. Especially tonight.