Chapter Text
Jesper arrived at Toren Leder a bit early one afternoon, with several small tins of Tilde’s almond cookies to share around. Wylan and he had finished up in the office with time to spare. His partner, grinning broadly, had suggested the cookies and the early arrival. ‘Really, love?’ He’d asked. ‘Yes, sweetheart. I see how happy you are when you come home. I know how good this has been for you. Now go!’ Jes hadn’t argued further. And Tilde had been glad to send her extra baked cookies along. Apparently, even the house staff had noticed his improved mood over the last few weeks.
Joffrey accepted the gifted tin of cookies with a broad smile, Tiana blushed, and Jesper realized his admiration of Tij’s staff was definitely returned. When he got to the back room, and offered his mentor the larger tin he’d brought for her and Volk, she laughed.
“Serving up something for my sweet tooth, I see?”
“Yeah. I brought some for Joffrey and Tiana too. I'm pretty sure I may have upped the crush factor.”
“It wouldn’t take much, Jes. Though they both think they don’t have a shot, since you're spoken for.”
“Oh. Huh…”
Tij, already eating an almond cookie, raised an eyebrow.
He lowered his voice, “Wylan and I have talked about possibly having occasionally opening things up, for well, the right person or persons. But we haven’t added anyone in yet.”
“Mmmm hmmm.” This was hummed around the last of her cookie.
“And we’d need to be careful not to cause a scandal that would ruffle the Merchant Council’s feathers.”
She nodded, amusement lighting her eyes.
“And I have no clue why I just told you any of that.” He really didn’t, except that Tij was easy to talk to, and made him miss Nina and Inej.
“Because you know I’m your friend and not just your mentor?”
Jes realized she was correct on that front. “I mean, yeah.” Between all of their reveals to each other of their pasts, and Tij’s casual manner, she’d become more than just a teacher. His time spent in the back room of Toren Leder was happily anticipated now. Even Volk had seemed to warm up to him a bit. Especially when Jesper had helped improve their ventilation system. He and Tij had also collaborated on adding soundproofing to the basement as well as the back room. Getting to show his mentor how to do something he’d figured out on his own had felt especially fantastic. Volk trusted Jesper enough now to leave them alone in the studio most afternoons. Today, Tij’s husband was apparently helping Ionnes with some project at Zavarka Yugu. Glancing at the studio table, and the pile of cut black leather pattern pieces there, Jesper asked, “What’s on our agenda for today’s work?”
“You’re going to help me put together the custom order for your friend Mister Brekker.”
“Oh shit? Really? That’s Kaz’s jacket?” Jesper had already seen the leather captain’s coat that Kaz had commissioned for Inej. He’d even gotten to work on some of the piecing, and Tij had demonstrated technique for making the backed leather coat impervious to bullets, blades, and even Fabrikated weapons. The sketches and pattern for Kaz’s jacket were gorgeous. Different from the one Jesper had ordered for himself, which he’d also gotten to work on. He was doubly glad he’d come over early now.
“Yes. I figured you’d like to help me with it. Would you grab the dress form?”
“Sure thing, Tij!”
They spent the first half of the afternoon assembling the body of the jacket out of pattern pieces. As it took shape under their nimble fingers, Jesper appreciated all of the hundreds of small projects that Tij had already had him work on. His confidence with using his power in a tight, controlled flow as he stitched had grown. His mentor had shown him at least a baker’s dozen ways to fix his mistakes as well. It was incredibly reassuring, knowing that someone with Tij’s training and experience was still capable of making errors, and that there were few ways he could fuck something up she hadn’t encountered before. ‘Best part of our gift is that we can fix most things, Jes.’ Whenever he’d scorched or botched a piece, she would gently take it from his hands, tilt her head, and then proceed to show him how to reverse or repair the damage. He’d loosened up and gained more trust in his abilities. Consequently, he’d stopped making as many mistakes. Tij had remarked on that facet last week with a knowing look. She had a slew of those.
“Saints, he’s going to look stunning in this.”
“I do believe your friend Captain Ghafa said as much when she encouraged me to get him to order one. She’d seen the kefta styled one, and then I suggested some alterations.”
Jes snorted. Inej certainly did have a keen interest in Kaz both looking good and being kept safe by this much Fabrikated leather. He also knew she should be back to Ketterdam soon, based on her letter from Weddle nearly two weeks prior. Both he and Wylan were eagerly anticipating her arrival, though surely not as much as Kaz. He’d been doing better, but Jes and Wy knew he still missed Inej terribly. Their friend had been a little different since he’d returned from his trip south. Kaz had seemed subdued at dinner at the mansion this past weekend. And then he’d asked them for hugs without prompting or betting or anything before he’d gone up to Inej’s suite that night. Wylan swore he'd noted tears in their friend’s eyes when he was embracing Jesper. They figured he was just overwhelmed by Inej’s voyage taking longer than expected. She’d asked them, yet again, in her letter, to keep an eye on him. As if they hadn’t already been doing that all along. All Saints, how those two worry over each other.
“Well, Inej is going to love this on him,” he assured Tij.
“Excellent. They’re some of my favorite clients. And they introduced me to you.” She said that last bit without meeting his eyes, her gaze intent on the blunt needle in her fingers. It meant she didn’t see his blink, or the way he bit his lip at the sweet sentiment in her voice. Jes didn’t know quite what to say to that. He really did adore working with her, learning from her. Almond cookies and free labor for her shop didn’t seem like nearly enough in terms of the skills and confidence he was gaining. This wasn’t the first time she’d expressed how much she liked having him around, though, so maybe he didn’t need to worry so much about repayment. He wondered how much Kerch influence was at play, that he was worried about it at all. The zowa in Novyi Zem didn’t view training someone’s gift as a transaction. Tij had spent a lot of time in his homeland. It was entirely likely she shared that philosophy.
When they took a break for a snack that wasn’t almond cookies, Jesper took the opportunity to ask a question about her past that he’d gotten hints of, but not confirmation. “Tij… I know you spent time in Novyi Zem, and I have an inkling of why you left Ravka. How long ago was that?”
A piece of hard cheese halfway to her mouth, Tij set it back on her plate and tilted her head. He’d learned that was one of her thinking tells. As were the pursed lips, raised eyebrow, and squint that was turned to him now. “Almost thirteen years ago.”
Jes realized the timing meant that she’d left Ravka for Novyi Zem the same year his mother had passed. He’d been just a kid when his mentor had fled her homeland with a Fjerdan in tow. Tij nor Volk had come out and confirmed her husband’s heritage, but there was an entire pile of clues. It wasn’t like being Fjerdan was a problem in Ketterdam. Being a drüskelle deserter was perhaps a different story, but Jes only suspected that part. The way Tij had responded to the story of Matthias and Nina, however, had added to his suspicions. With Tij’s ability to change their hair color, there was no way of knowing if her or her husband’s gray hair was indicative of their age. It had been bugging him for weeks now. He knew Tij had been a part of the Darkling’s entourage, which narrowed it down a bit. He also knew Grisha and zowa could live longer, and look younger for longer. Secretly, he wondered how that might affect him, and his relationship with Wylan. That might have influenced his inability to keep himself from asking after Tij’s age again.
“The last time, I kind of stuck my foot in my mouth, but… can I ask how old you are?”
She surprised him with a smirk, and a slow shake of her head. “I was honestly wondering when you’d circle back to that.”
“You don’t have to answer,” he backpedaled, “I get that it could be seen as rude.”
“Are you asking out of sheer curiosity?” Tij didn’t sound annoyed, and her voice went kind as she continued, “Or because you’re wondering about Grisha and zowa, and how we age?”
Why do I forget how perceptive she is? “I mean, both, but mostly the second one.”
“Well… I’m a decade older than Volk. And he had no clue about that when we met. You already know my hair color is fake. His isn’t anymore, oddly enough.” She paused, eyes glinting with mischief as Jesper waited to see if she was going to come out with an actual number. “I haven’t a clue what my hair color would be now. I do like the silver. Makes me actually look forty seven.”
Jesper gaped. He really didn’t mean to. Tij had five years on his father. It was an age he thought of as ‘old’, and that just didn’t square with the mentor that had almost more energy than him on any given day. “You don’t look that old. Even with the hair.”
“That’s because I don’t hide who and what I am around you…” She grinned, and proved his point about not appearing her age. “Watch.” Tij slouched in her chair, letting her shoulders fall forward. The grin slid from her face, and she curled her hands in slightly. “When I’m out and about, I even wear a shawl like a proper little old Ravkan lady.” Her voice came out sounding frail. The overall effect was disconcerting.
Even though he’d literally just thought of the number she’d given as old, he wanted to protest that it wasn’t granny age. But it made sense for her to play it up. Most Kerch wouldn’t think twice about a silver haired woman in a shawl in Little Ravka or the Zelver district as being Grisha. Tij straightened with a laugh, rolling her shoulders, and flexing her hands. Jesper wondered what she must have looked like before she’d started taking on disguises.
“So it’s really true about Grisha and zowa, that we don’t always age the same way?”
“A lot of it depends on the power level of one’s gift, but yes.”
“I… huh. How long… How much longer do you think I might…”
Tij reached out and briefly touched the back of his hand as he trailed off. “If you don’t get taken out by a bullet or some other catastrophe? Possibly an extra fifty or more years past average. I’m no expert, certainly, and so many of us died prematurely because of ceaseless war, but I knew a few elders in the Little Palace. And I met some zowa in Novyi Zem that were still strong and vibrant well past a hundred years of age.”
“Oh. Wow.” Wylan was only a year younger than him. He’d contemplated this possibility before, but with Tij’s confirmation, the weight of watching his partner age while he didn’t dropped like an anvil. Then he realized it wouldn’t just be Wylan. Inej, Kaz, his father. Most of the friends he had in Ketterdam weren’t Grisha or zowa. Saints. “How… how do you deal with it? The knowledge that you’ll… you’ll outlive Volk?”
Leaning her face on one hand, Tij gave him a soft, somber smile. “He and I have been living together on borrowed time for so long… I’m happy for every day I get with him. My husband has already had a far longer life with me than he would have if he’d stayed in his homeland. So I just savor every moment we get. And if and when I do outlive him, I’ll grieve for him. And it will still have all been worth it.”
Jes absorbed her words. Occasionally, his life with Wylan seemed like a fairy tale. Like he’d managed to rescue the out of place prince and gone to live in his castle. It wasn’t so much borrowed time as it was a life he wondered how he’d been lucky enough to get. The gambler who couldn’t keep luck on his side for more than a few hands had somehow managed to defy all of the odds. Jes was certainly grateful for every day that he got with Wylan. Would he be able to be as philosophical about aging as Tij was in thirty years? Fifty? When he was still looking and feeling spry and Wylan wasn’t? At least Wylan lived a life of relative safety. As did his father, really. Kaz and Inej, on the other hand, put themselves in harm’s way as a career. All Jesper could really do was encourage them to make safer choices. And possibly Fabrikate every item in their wardrobes. He wondered if he could work on enhancements to The Wraith.
Tij interrupted his ruminations, “You’ll make yourself crazy if you think about it too much, Jes. C’mon, let’s finish eating and get back to work.”
He nodded. Though his appetite was dimmed by his overactive thoughts, he nibbled at the aged cheddar, summer sausage, and sliced apple that Tij had offered up. She’d gotten one of the clever food storage safes for the back room. They’d examined it with their powers, and Jesper had a decent idea of how it worked. It was about the density of the materials, and how they insulated the interior. It mimicked a cold storage room, or a root cellar, but on a smaller scale. He suggested to Wylan they could build one of their own for the lab to store snacks. His partner had then wondered if they could build a separate one for volatile compounds, something that would keep them at the necessary temperature, and withstand an explosion if the storage failed somehow. Given that neither of them wanted the mansion to blow up, it seemed like a worthwhile endeavor.
Jesper had asked Tij for some pointers on that project, as well as the switches for the soundproofed doors that Kaz had suggested. That was why Wylan had actually joined him on his last visit here. They’d brought some soundproofed material samples, along with a few prototype switches. By the end of the afternoon, they’d figured out a way for the switches to perform properly. The switches needed to be centered in the door, and special treated plates installed at each of the four corners, and then anyone could work them. The first door they tried it on was the one from the front of Toren Leder to the back room studio. He and Wylan had then installed the system on their own suite door. All their tests had worked well, and Inej’s suite and Kaz’s attic rooms were next. Kaz had offered to pay for the materials for the ones for the Slat. Wylan had counter offered that Kaz could pay in another bottle of the eiswein that he’d brought. Their friend had grumbled that the materials may cost less, causing Jesper to laugh uproariously. Then Kaz had complained that Jesper and Wylan might actually owe him for ‘odor damages’ to the Slat.
“What’s got you so amused?”
He realized he must have snickered aloud at the memory. They’d gone back to work, but Jesper let go of his stitching needle so he could do the story justice with gesticulations. “So… I didn’t tell you about how me checking in at the Slat went while Kaz was out of town…”
“That was last week, after you and Wylan were here, so not yet, no.”
“Okay so…” Tij paused her own needle, giving him her undivided attention for story time. “I was just supposed to be going round to make sure everything was up to snuff, and the lieutenants were running the actual show. I wasn’t even supposed to be there long. But of course, I got to talking to some of the Dregs I know, and we’re sitting at the bar, having a drink. Telling old Barrel stories, gossiping about the new recruits, and whatnot. There’s all these new kids, wet behind the ears. One of them, Buzz, got stuck bad with a knife at that meeting the other week. He went and saw Arika, but he’s still healing up. So he’s been on light duty, cleaning at the Slat. He’s not so great at it. Not his usual gig.”
Tij nodded along with the story, taking a sip of her tea while she listened.
“So he’s behind us, moving some crates, and I watch as Boe and Nico’s faces get real nervous, but before they can say anything, we all hear ‘Oh fuck…’ and then this kid Buzz manages to set off a smoke bomb in the main room of the Slat.”
“Oh dear,” she said with a snorting laugh.
“You’ve never seen the Dregs clear out of their own house so fast. It just so happened to be one of the ones that my darling demo expert packed with extra sulfur, so it smelled like rotten eggs on top of filling the whole place with smoke. And of course, Anika comes up right then, and chews me out for managing to fuck up ‘just swinging by to check in’. Buzz, meanwhile, having gotten the full brunt of the smoke bomb, is still wheezing and heaving in the alley. Boe manages to intercede with Anika, telling her whose fault it really was. We had to wade back in with wet handkerchiefs over our faces to get all the windows and doors open, and air the place out. Then Buzz got put in charge of cleaning everything all over again.”
Still giggling, Tij remarked, “So did you get to explain to Brekker that something blew up in the Slat on your watch?”
“I didn’t even get the chance! He heard all about it from Anika, Boe, Nico, Jeter,” he held up fingers as he enumerated people, “And just about every other Dreg before I saw him.”
“Did they at least get any other leftover incendiaries properly stored?” Tij inquired, “Preferably far away from this Buzz kid?”
“Yeah, Wylan and I made sure, actually. I don’t think Anika or Kaz are ever going to let me live this one down, but at least it’s funny now.”
“Does the Slat still smell like sulfur?”
“I don’t know, I haven’t been back!”
Snickering, Tij suggested, “Baking soda. It can help counteract the odor.”
“See, you’re an endless font of useful knowledge.”
“Hardly. I just happened to grow up on a farm with chickens. A rotten egg is no joke in a small coop.”
Taken aback, he asked, “Wait, you grew up on a farm too?”
There was a small sadness in Tij’s face, there and then gone in a second, as she took up her stitching again. “Yes. It was in a village north of Adena.”
“I didn’t mean to pry.”
“You didn’t, Jes. It’s okay.”
He picked up his own needle and went back to work, wondering if he should tell her about his life on the farm as a kid. Much like someone else he knew, Tij didn’t talk much about her past. When she did, it was random snippets like that. Jes figured her reasons were different from Kaz’s, but it didn’t stop his curiosity. She doesn’t have to tell me about her past, but what can it hurt to talk about mine?
“We had chickens, on my farm, growing up. Goats, too. There was an orange barn cat, and a palomino plow horse, and a gray dapple pony. Though Da sold the pony when I outgrew him. Mostly, though, everything was all about growing jurda. I helped my Da with harvesting and drying the crops, too.”
Not glancing up from her work, Tij said softly, “We had chickens, ducks, goats, cats, dogs, and two horses. My mother loved animals. People knew to bring her the injured or lost ones, so we’d end up with all sorts of things in the spring. Baby birds that fell from the nest, or baby bunnies that their kids found.”
“It was kind of like that with my mother. I think we got Lencho, the barn cat, because my mother helped with a neighbor’s well. She wanted to help people with her gift.” Even if it took her from me. He hadn’t meant to let himself touch upon that sorrow. Perhaps Tij heard it, because she responded with even more unprompted information about her past.
“My parents were otkazat'sya. My father was in the First Army, so we rarely saw him. After I got tested, it was just my older sister and my mother at the farm. I think my sister blamed me for leaving. Not that I really had a choice.”
“When were you tested?” Jesper asked, in nearly a whisper, afraid to overstep.
Tij pulled a stitch tight before she answered. “I was nine.”
“Oh. Wow.” And then she got taken to the Little Palace. Damn.
“Yes. I remember thinking I didn’t want to be different. I didn’t want to leave my mother, or the farm. I didn’t even get to go home and visit until I was almost thirteen. My mother couldn’t spare the time to come to the Little Palace, and they discouraged that anyway. Sometimes, I wish I’d been born Zemeni instead. Though I suppose I wouldn’t have saved Volk, then.”
“Saved?” The question came out before Jesper could stop himself.
His mentor’s hands stilled, and he heard her take a deep, shuddery breath. With a grimace, she glanced around the back room.
“Forget I asked, Tij. You don’t owe me this story.” She’d already answered more than enough of his questions today. Even ones he hadn’t meant to ask.
“I don’t…” She lifted her face to his, her blue eyes gone steely gray like storm clouds. With a sharp flick of her wrist, the door from the front of the shop locked itself, and the soundproofing switch flipped. Another gesture locked the back door. Occasionally, Jesper forgot precisely how skilled she was with her power. How intimidating she could be. Tij sighed again. “But I haven’t told anyone in a long time.”
Jesper pulled the last stitch he was working on tight, and let his needle drop. Her story definitely merited his full attention. Even with the doors locked, and the back room soundproofed, Tij’s voice wasn’t much higher than a murmur. “I think you’ve deduced where Volk is from?”
He simply nodded.
“We had different names, back then. We were… very different people. The Darkling had brought his entourage to Chernast. It’s in the north, near the border. Volk was a scout, ranging south. He found me out for a walk.” She paused, a deprecating mirthless laugh escaping her lips. “I was the reason he was captured. And then I couldn’t watch as they tortured him for information.” She closed her eyes for a moment, as if reliving the memory. When she opened them again, her expression was fierce, defiant. “But that… that was the last thing I could endure. I knew I was probably one mishap away from a similar fate, if the Darkling ever figured out I’d been hiding some of my abilities. So I freed Auk… Volk… and we escaped. Fled north in the night. Had to avoid both of our respective forces in turn. Had to go the long way around the top of the Fold. We didn’t rest easy until Weddle.”
“All the Saints, Tij,” Jesper breathed out. Her story hit like a mallet blow. No wonder Volk is so dedicated to her, she saved his life from the fucking Darkling.
The wry smile that curled her lips didn’t touch her eyes. “We settled in Kolet, in the north, for a long while. Until a slaver raid took some zowa I was friends with, and Volk insisted we leave. Then we just moved every few years, whenever he felt like I wasn’t safe. He’s always worried more for my safety than his own. We never took names that matched our origins. Not until the Darkling was dead. When we decided to come to Ketterdam, I had decent knowledge of Little Ravka, and decided Ravkan names could work. He fought me on it, at first, until I picked Volk. Then he laughed and gave in.”
“My Ravkan isn’t so great,” he admitted. Inej and Wylan had taught Jesper the basics, but the exact meaning of their names escaped him.
“I picked Tij for me, after the big hunting cats near Chernost. Tijger, tigers. And Volk? Volk means wolf.” She said this last with a wicked grin that caught fire in her eyes.
Wolves are sacred to Djel. Jesper could almost hear Matthias saying it. “Maybe a bit on the nose, for a Fjerdan in hiding?”
“Ah yes, but with a Ravkan surname, who would guess? Besides, I’m in more danger here than him. At least my own government isn’t hunting me anymore. With everything that’s happened lately in our respective homelands, I think the biggest risk here is people looking to snatch up a Grisha. And for that, I have your dear friend Brekker’s protection.”
Jesper cocked an eyebrow at his mentor. Kaz had told them that he’d offered Tij and Volk the protection of the Dregs if they needed it. Tij had even mentioned it before. However, just then she’d said it with a surety that made him wonder if she’d somehow manipulated the situation in her favor. Can Kaz even be manipulated? Well, by Inej, most certainly. And Wylan sometimes. Though Kaz did also agree to help the Grisha here, on Tij’s prompting. Huh.
“Not that it matters too much nowadays, but I trust that you understand that this story goes nowhere, Jesper? Except, perhaps, to your mercher in strict confidence. But not to Brekker.”
“Yes, ma’am. What story?” Kaz knew enough about Tij already. He didn’t need even more intel on the Grisha woman. Jes had asked Tij about telling Wylan, Kaz, and Inej about some of the rarer things he was learning. She’d rather seriously told him that if he trusted them with his secret talent, then she trusted his judgment. He wondered if his mentor put too much faith in him. But he’d told Wylan. And hinted at some things to Kaz. When Inej got back, he was going to show her all the things he could do now. When it came to Tij’s backstory, however, he could keep that to himself and his partner.
“Smart lad. Because if Volk knew I’d told you, he might be inclined to knocking your head into things until you forgot.” Her tone was joking, but only just.
I’d prefer to not have Volk knocking the sense out of me. With another set of gestures, Tij unlocked the doors to the back room again, and flipped the soundproofing switch. I need to learn how to do that. His mentor picked her needle up yet again. “I’m determined to at least get these gussets stitched.”
“You got it, Tij. And maybe after that, you can show me how to do the thing with the locks?” Jesper imitated her gesture, and she snorted.