They were both older, bigger, and broader of shoulder than Joost, and they were house guards, private servants of Councilman Hoede. Joost whirled, cheeks going hot as Henk and Rutger strode into the side garden. 'Sergeant Joost Van Poel,' he whispered, savoring the sound of the words. Sharp-eyed and quick with the cudgel, Hoede would say. Joost adjusted the set of his coat and rifle, then patted the weighted baton at his hip. Councilman Hoede was about as high placed in Ketterdam government as a man could be. But ever since the assassination of that ambassador at the town hall, the Merchant Council had been grumbling about security, so where was he? Stuck walking in circles at some lucky mercher's house. He thought he'd be running down thieves in the Barrel or patrolling the harbors, getting first look at cargo coming in on the docks. He'd been a guard in the stadwatch less than six weeks, and it wasn't nearly as exciting as he'd hoped.

It definitely felt thicker than yesterday. Gently, he brushed his finger along his upper lip. Even in his new uniform, he still looked like a baby. Joost glanced at his reflection in one of the glass panels set into the double doors that led from the house to the side garden. Maybe he could compliment Anya's laugh? Except he'd never heard her laugh. The full moon looked less like a jewel than a yellowy blister in need of lancing. Even here among the mansions of the Geldstraat, the air hung thick with the smell of fish and bilge water, and smoke from the refineries on the city's outer islands had smeared the night sky in a briny haze.

There'd been no breeze off the harbor that day, and a gray milk fog had wreathed the city's canals and crooked alleys in damp. 'Girls love that.'Ī perfect solution, but the Ketterdam weather was not cooperating. 'Just tell her she's got skin like moonlight,' his friend Pieter had said. melted chocolate brown? Rabbit fur brown? Instead, her eyes were brown-lovely, dreamy. If only Anya's eyes were blue like the sea or green like an emerald. He was supposed to be making his rounds at the Hoede house, but for the last fifteen minutes, he'd been hovering around the southeast wall of the gardens, trying to think of something clever and romantic to say to Anya. Joost had two problems: the moon and his mustache.

Six of crows author