Chapter Text
“Stop this wagon!” Jesper shouted, over the sound of clacking hooves and rattling chains. They really didn’t make these things with comfort in mind. Obviously. They were prison wagons. Still, there was really no reason to pack them in like this, they were criminals for Saintsakes, not sardines!
Another glance at Kaz’s face brought him back to the problem at hand. Of course he would be upset that they’d gotten caught; no one in the stadtwatch had gotten their hands on Dirtyhands in nearly a decade. Still, this wasn’t the fuming, yet silent, anger that Jesper had expected.
From the moment that they’d slapped the shackles over their wrists and shoved them into the back of that wagon that was already well-past capacity, Kaz had been eerily silent, eerily still. The color—what little of it there was to begin with—had drained from his features, accentuating the dark circles beneath his eyes, and making him look all the more like a corpse.
Kaz Brekker was an enigma at best, but Jesper had been around long enough to know that nobody touched Kaz. A few moments’ observation told him all that he needed to know: the way Kaz’s eyes were shut tightly, his fists clenched tightly, leather pulled taut over his knuckles. With each jerk and lurch of the wagon, he winced, tried to shy away from the other prisoners that were pressed in on either side of him. It was like watching a caged animal being prodded with a stick. For what must have been only the second time since they’d met, Kaz was scared.
Jesper hadn’t hesitated to jump into action. Slamming his fists against the metal walls, he tried to gain the guards’ attention. In vain, it seemed.
Kaz’s eyes were closed, his head hung down against his chest, his hair obscuring his expression from view. He was curled in on himself, making him look almost comically small, as tall as he was. It was hard to tell with all of the jostling of the uneven road, but it appeared as though he was trembling.
Jesper’s heart stuttered in his chest.
He shook his head, opening his mouth to shout again, when the wagon halted suddenly, and he was thrown back into his seat.
Heavy metal door swung open, and the crude faces of the Stadtwatch officers that had arrested them came into view. “You two, out.”
Forcing on a smug smile, Jesper bid his goodbyes to the other prisoners. He was careful not to trip as he stepped around their feet and out of the wagon. Keeping his gaze ahead, the only sign that Kaz was following him was his heavy, labored breathing. Everything about this was so wrong, Jesper needed to keep up appearances.
Still, as an officer shoved Kaz into him, he whispered, “It’s alright, boss. Come on.”
Truth be told, he wasn’t even sure if Kaz could hear him. When Jesper spared him a glance as they were led into some sort of meeting parlor, Kaz’s physical appearance had gotten worse. His skin had taken on a greenish pallor, as though he might be sick. His eyes were unfocused, nearly crossed. Was he even aware of what was happening right now? Without his cane, his steps were slow, jerky, as the officers shoved him when he wasn’t moving fast enough.
“Keep your hands off of him,” Jesper snarled, but there wasn’t much he could do, with his hands shackled and his guns in possession of the guards in question.
They forced Jesper into the chair and snapped at Kaz to sit. Kaz merely stared at the chair, blankly. They put their hands on him, and Kaz cried out, before falling to his knees.
“What’s wrong with him?” One of the guards asked, looking to his superior for answers.
Another door opened, and two figures stepped into the room, but Jesper didn’t have the mind to pay them any attention. He couldn’t look away from Kaz.
“Get these shackles off of me,” he ordered, but there was more panic than malice in his voice. “Get them off!”
Kaz had gone very still. Too still. Was it some sort of trick? Some sort of plan to get out of the shackles?
Then his eyes rolled, and a strangled sound escaped his throat. He fell against the carpeted floor, narrowly avoiding cracking his head against the chair. His entire body was convulsing.
“All of you, out!” An unfamiliar voice ordered. As soon as the room was empty, someone dropped to their knees beside Kaz, coaxing him onto his side.
Now that the stadtwatch was gone, Jesper didn’t care anymore about keeping his secret. He’d kill this stranger if he had to. Tearing the shackles off as if they were made of putty, he shoved the newcomer away. “Don’t touch him.”
To his surprise, the man didn’t push back. He raised his hands and met Jesper’s gaze steadily. “Your friend is having a seizure, I’m trying to help,” the man said, carefully.
A seizure? That couldn’t be right. Why would Kaz be having a—
Another strangled sound left Kaz’s mouth, his body shaking violently. Jesper gave the newcomer a once over and nodded, giving him space.
The man took off his coat and bundled it beneath Kaz’s head. He seemed to be keeping his touch light, which was good, just keeping Kaz from hurting himself.
After a few moments, the convulsing stopped. It was a few more moments still before Kaz blinked, finally coming back to.
“Welcome back, Mister Brekker,” the man said, offering him a hand.
Kaz just blinked, and batted the man’s hand away. He pushed himself into a seated position, taking in his surroundings. “Who’re you? Jes, where’re we?” His words were slurred, as though his tongue didn’t quite know what to do. Jes. Kaz never called him that.
“I- I don’t know,” Jesper stammered. “Kaz— Saints, you just had a seizure. What—“
“Happens.”
“ Happens ? What do you mean, “happens”? People don’t just have bloody seizures for no reason!”
Ignoring him in a very Brekker fashion, Kaz turned his attention to the newcomer. “Who’re you?” More threatening this time, but no less out of it.
“Take it easy,” the man said. He opened his mouth, then closed it again. “This is exactly going how I planned it. The name’s Sturmhond, I hired you to kidnap the sun-summoner.”
Kaz stared at his for a few moments, before shaking his head. “Figures. Dreisson’s useless.”
“I’ll have to agree with you there,” Sturmhond said, inching backwards to give him more room.
Jesper merely stared at the newcomer in awe. “Sturmhond? Like the pirate, Sturmhond?”
“Privateer,” Sturmhond corrected, “and yes, like that one.”
The privateer pulled out his pocket watch and glanced toward the door. “Grab your things. You’re coming with me.”
“Woah, woah, woah. We’re not going anywhere,” Jesper countered, taking a few steps towards Kaz, protectively.
“I have a healer on my ship. Your boss is in no shape to fight against me, and I have these,” Sturmhond gestures to the revolvers around his waist. Jesper’s revolvers. “Come on, then.”
Reluctantly, Jesper grabbed Kaz’s cane, and handed it to him. It was as unnerving, the fact that Kaz wasn’t saying anything, wasn’t arguing against him. In fact, Kaz still seemed too out of it for his liking.
“This way,” Sturmhond said, gesturing out the back door.
Jesper sighed, and followed, keeping an eye on Kaz.
Out of one prison and into another.