Chapter Text
Only Jesper’s luck would be this bad.
He said that, knowing it was a bratty thing to say. Obviously, his work could be worse. His best friend came from the Menagerie after being torn from her family and dragged to another country. Obviously, his luck could be worse.
His sister in all but blood had lost the boy she loved and was still recovering from a deadly drug that altered her very being. Obviously, his luck could be worse.
His boyfriend grew up in an abusive household where his father tricked him into thinking his mother was dead and then tried to kill him. Yes. Obviously, obviously, it could be worse.
Matthias was literally dead. And don’t get him started on Kaz.
But, for the sake of being done with life, only Jesper’s luck would be this bad.
It had taken Jesper three months to get everyone on the Wraith. Three. Months. There had been endless letters exchanged with Nina and pleas with Inej to let them use her boat. Sure, Wylan could procure several boats and captains, but he had desperately wanted her to be with them.
Jesper had been ready to abandon the hope of Kaz coming at all. He never left Ketterdam unless money was to be made elsewhere. Besides, he and Nina were currently at all odds or something or another. Nina claimed he stole something from Os Alta. Kaz definitely did, but wouldn’t admit it.
At any rate, Kaz coming was a suspicious surprise. Inej was the one to convince him, but still…
All of this to say, Jesper was pissed as he stared down at the letter in front of them. It crinkled under his grip; the words written in his father’s familiar scrawl with the apology bleeding into the ink. When he looked up again, he saw the young girl who had boarded their boat patiently waiting for him.
“Thank you,” he told her in Kerch, because he had made sure she knew they all spoke Kerch, “for delivering this to me.”
The girl smiled - her hair down in intricate twists with golden rings and makeup painted over her eyes. She was zowa. A tidemaker based on how the waves all paused at her command when she rode up to the ship in a small rowboat.
“Of course,” she answered and clapped her hands together, turning to the others. “And welcome.” Her Kerch didn’t sound like Wylan’s or Kaz’s - leaving Jesper to realize she spoke with the same sort of lilt that he still occasionally did. Kaz used to correct him all the time, claiming his accent was a ‘nightmare to understand’ and Jesper would moodily ask if he knew Zemeni in return. Eventually, Jesper improved enough that Kaz stopped being a dick, but now he could clearly tell the difference between the native sounds and how it fell on foreign lips.
“Don’t worry,” the girl continued. “I’m not here to send you away or collect personal information,” she promised them. Wylan looked around, probably confused as to what was even happening. He had been too young to remember trips to Novyi Zem with his father, probably. These customs would be new to him. “We have three processes for new ships. Refugees dock there,” she said, pointing to the left. “You’ll get food and free housing. We never ask for information on who you are or why you’re here. It’s just where most of our medical resources are. If you’re visitors, you dock there,” she said, pointing to the right. “We have all the maps and tours set up for you there. And if you’re citizens, you dock there,” she said, pointing directly behind her. “That’s where all the transportation is to get you to whatever part of the country your family is.”
“Is it still free?” Jesper asked, patting his pockets. The girl nodded. “Great, we’re all citizens,” he said, ignoring everyone unanimously turning to him at once. He pretended not to notice as he slipped a tiny ball out of his pocket and handed it to her. The girl examined it for a moment and then handed it back.
She turned to the rest. An awkward beat followed and Jesper narrowed his eyes. He had told every single one of them what to bring. If someone had forgotten he would be a nightmare. He swore to Ghezen and the saints and-
Inej slowly brought out the ball Jesper had given her months earlier. The Zemeni girl looked at it and then moved on to where everyone had brought theirs out.
The balls were each about the size of a marble, with varying colors and patterns. Jesper had given them to each person at different times with strict instructions to never, ever lose it or have it damaged. Wylan, bless him, always wore his as a necklace. Kaz slipped his out like it was a card trick and Nina kept hers in the front of her shirt because it was Nina and she probably was the only person who fully understood what Jesper had given her.
“Perfect!” the girl said brightly after finishing her examination of each little marble held out to her. “Welcome home. We’ll be docked in ten minutes. Let me talk to your sailors about where to go,” she said and drifted past them to where the crew was waiting. Nobody spoke.
“Jesper?” Wylan finally said. He glanced over at him. “Why are we sneaking in?”
Yeah, he should probably explain this, shouldn’t he? He patted his father’s letter against his pocket and smiled fondly at him.
“We’re not sneaking in.”
“It’s been awhile since I’ve been Novyi Zem,” Wylan pointed out. “But I’m pretty sure I’m not a citizen. What are these?” he asked, holding up his little ball.
Ugh. He glanced at the others. Nina looked smug and Inej vaguely curious. She probably had been to Novyi Zem before, but didn’t know she could use Jesper’s gift. He sighed, sticking his hands in his pockets.
“Sorry, I forgot to explain that,” he lied. He had hoped they would figure it out on their own and never, ever talk about it. “Um, yes. You are all legally citizens of Novyi Zem. Surprise, I guess,” he said, shrugging.
Nina didn’t seem surprised, looking pleased as she rolled her ball between her fingers. “So this really is a Handon ball then?” she asked. Jesper nodded. “Aw, Jes,” she said, and he glowered at her. Wylan cleared his throat, gesturing vaguely for an explanation. Jesper tore his eyes from giving Nina an irritated look to let his eyes fall to the marble sitting in his hands.
“It’s just how we do citizenship here,” he began, pocketing his. “When someone is born on Zemeni soil, they automatically get ten Handon balls. One belongs to the child,” he said, patting his pocket. “One is given to each parent, and any siblings - or whoever is taking care of the kid. And the others are for the child to eventually give away.”
Inej raised her hand.
“Why do the parents get them? Shouldn’t they already have one?”
“Not always,” Jesper said, monitoring the water splashing against the ship below. “Sometimes the parents are refugees or visitors. Other times, it’s just symbolic. My dad still has one of mine, but if I end up having kids born outside of Novyi Zem, he would pass it down. I got my mother’s back when she died.” Inej raised her hand again. “Hm?” he asked, a little amused by her intensity.
“What if you don’t have enough?”
“You only get ten. So you have to prioritize,” Jesper said. Inej looked down at her ball, and he knew she was trying to do the math. Jesper had one, so did his father, and each of them. That was six. Jesper would only have four of these little balls left for the rest of his life. For all the people he would meet. For any potential children not born here.
He hoped she didn’t understand the weight of what it meant - giving those to them.
“As a final note,” Jesper said with a hint of warning. “If anyone opens these up, they have my name in them, so people will know what family you belong to. Please do not get me arrested for letting you have free rein in this country.” He turned to look directly at Kaz when he said that last part. “Please,” he added.
“These open up?” Nina muttered, looking her over. “I didn’t know that-” A click interrupted her, and she gave a delighted gasp as she peered inside. Wylan peered over to perhaps confirm that Jesper’s name was, in fact, carefully written inside in letters that seemed impossibly small to write. “I love this. So essentially if I get lost I can just hand someone this and they’ll know to take me to you?”
Jesper stared at her for a long time. Help him.
“….in theory,” he finally relented. “But not everyone knows who I am-”
“There are coordinates,” Inej noted, also on her tip-toes to see the ball over Nina’s shoulder.
“That’s where I was born. If you really got lost, that’s where they would take you, probably-”
“Aw! I want to see where you were born!” Wylan gasped. Jesper ran a hand over his face. “It’s your father’s farm, right?” he asked.
Why did he do this to himself? Before anyone could say anything else, the ship shuddered, shouldering up to the dock.
Nina shut her marble - looking thrilled at the development as she sashayed off. Jesper took a long breath, the note in his pocket still heavy, and slipped off after her. He grabbed Wylan’s hand, squeezing tightly as if he might steal some of his strength if he tried enough.
The smell of freshly spiced bread hit him, making his entire body melt with anticipation. Music played and others waved merely at their arrival. Jesper had almost beamed in return until he noticed a wooden statue being pulled up a few feet away. His stomach twisted.
“Come on,” he muttered, eying the statue warily as he tugged Wylan along. A few people looked at him, stopping as they walked by with almost suspicious looks. He wondered if they knew. Could they? Did people know what he looked like?
It felt unfair in that moment, that he couldn’t just blend in. In Kerch, it was his dark skin that outed him as Zemeni. An outsider, as it were. Here it was his eyes - the Kaelish gray alerting everyone that he was different. Easily identifiable.
Ghezen, he hated her. This saint who had ruined everything with a wave of her hand. He gritted his teeth and pulled Wylan into a market set up to their left. Most of it was filled with fresh fruits and vegetables, but he moved towards the fabrics, ignoring Nina delightedly pausing by the stalls to try and flirt her way into some free strawberries.
“This please,” he said in Zemeni as he grabbed a cloak. There weren’t many of them - it was too hot for these to be a best seller - but it was good enough. Dark with a large hood. He’d bring it back with him to Kerch to stay warm. The man held out his hand for the money, but paused when he caught sight of Jesper’s face.
“Wait. Are you-?”
“Just the cloak, please,” Jesper said coldly and slapped the money down. The man gawked at him - eyes wide - but quickly took the money, throwing the cloak at him. Jesper slipped it on, inwardly sighing.
People knew. They knew. He would have to live like this forever.
It was good he made a home in Kerch, he supposed. It limited the discomfort he was going to feel here. Still, he was bitter as he ignored his friends’ curious looks and Kaz’s unyielding expression of aloof observation.
He pulled the hood over his head and walked.
Jesper couldn’t help but think that this felt like the benign version of Ketterdam in a way. Perhaps he had spent too much time away from home, but it was like if the Kerch city had been poured with good, honest men over the Kaz-like ones.
It made him a little uncomfortable if he was honest.
“Welcome home,” one man greeted, looking bewildered as he approached them. “You all… speak Kerch?” he asked uncertainly. Jesper nodded. He had requested a Kerch driver for the sake of having to translate as little as possible.
From beside him, Inej turned to Wylan, as if just realizing something as she nudged him.
“Do you speak any other languages?” she asked, drawing Wylan away from staring in awe at where a woman was playing a song on some flute-like instrument.
“Hm?” he asked and then held up his hand for a moment, humming the song back to himself. Inej waited, watching as he hummed again - this time mimicking each note and rhythm perfectly. His fingers twitched around the case that held his own flute. “Um, not well,” he said, turning back to them. “Jesper has taught me some Zemeni but I’m still working on it. I was taught the basics of Fjerda and my Ravkan is passable. I need to learn more for negotiation.”
His boyfriend was so freaking smart. Jesper tried his best to keep the adoration off his face but based on how Kaz rolled his eyes, he had failed.
“What of you, Kaz?” Jesper asked, just because he didn’t appreciate the fact he wasn’t also infatuated by Wylan’s endless talents. “What languages do you speak?”
Kaz didn’t even look at him - moving towards a cart of fruit to study several green seeds with thoughtful eyes.
“I speak money, anger, and treachery quite fluently.”
“And bullshit,” Jesper finished solemnly, slapping directions into the driver’s hand. Kaz flipped him off.
“So either Kaz speaks every language fluently and doesn’t want us to know he can eavesdrop on everyone,” Nina said, crossing his arms, “or he can only speak Kerch and doesn’t want to admit it.”
“If I told you all my talents, you’d consider it bragging,” Kaz informed her. He put the seeds back and instead grabbed a cup of water sitting out and handed it to Inej. She accepted it with a warm smile, sipping it slowly.
“This tastes different,” she said. “Is it water?”
“They put honey in it,” Nina told her. “Usually they boil it and then mix the honey in so that when it cools, it’s a sweet mixture,” she explained, and grabbed one to hand to Wylan, and then herself. Jesper had almost forgotten she had spent quite a bit of time. “I don't know why, but everyone here seems to know how to cook.”
"It's funny," Jesper said, taking a cup of water from the table. "It's almost as if everyone here needs to eat and cooking is a necessary skill."
Honestly, it was weird to him that the others sucked at it so badly. Wylan got a pass because he was cute and clearly never cooked a day in his life because.... rich people, he supposed. Kaz lived off of bread and questionable water. When they had first met, Jesper had even gone as far as to make him food out of very serious concern. The other Dregs thought he was insane but the most insane part was that Kaz actually ate it (a testament to his cooking, surely). Nina, despite her love of food, would rather die than turn on a single stove. Only Inej was in the same boat as him - having cooked with parents growing up and even more with them now. Jesper remembered their first real bonding moment was when she tentatively made him her favorite meal and said it tasted like home.
He hoped she liked Zemeni food. It really was amazing in his humble and unbiased opinion. He took sip of the water, relishing the syrup taste as the driver gave him a curious look, bending over to try and see under his hood.
His bad mood returned. Moving away, he put the cup back on the table and shielded his face slightly.
“Alright,” he called, bringing everyone back to focus. “Onto the wagon.”
Everyone turned at once to where the driver had finally walked up their ride back to the farm. The wagon itself was decent sized, with cushioned seats and cloth thrown over an arched ribbing. It might have even passed for a carriage if it had doors. The driver cleared his throat to gain Jesper’s attention.
“He can’t get on a horse, right?” he asked in Zemeni, nodding to Kaz’s cane. Jesper shrugged.
“He probably can. I’d rather he didn’t,” he answered back, and the man nodded. Kaz watched the interaction with visible irritation. Jesper didn’t care if he was irritated, so he focused on counting how much money he had brought.
“I take it we were supposed to be on horses?” Kaz asked dryly.
For the love of Ghezen. He had hoped Kaz wouldn’t notice that others who were leaving the port rode out on individual horses. It was a foolish hope, really. Kaz noticed literally everything.
Jesper shrugged and gave the same sort of answer he had given the driver. “You can. You aren’t necessarily supposed to,” he said, and hopped onto the back of the wagon. “It’s easier for me if you don’t all go riding off in different directions and get lost. This way we won’t get any wanderers - Wylan,” he called, pulling Wylan back when he started drifting off to see a man carving what looked to be a stag out a log of wood.
“He’s going to set it on fire,” Wylan pointed out.
Jesper sighed. He could sometimes understand the pyromaniac tendencies his boyfriend had. Fire was pretty. Especially when it was the same color as his hair, with that glittering mixture of copper and gold that glimmered in the light.
But really outside of that? Guns were much more entertaining.
At any rate, he was right. Wylan wasn’t looking at the stag at all, but at the wooden sculpture next to it. A sea snake of some sort that was currently being doused in a fine powder. “Why? Did he coat it with something protective first? Or is he just going to let the whole thing burn?” There was a pause. “...can I help?”
Inej snorted.
“Do not set the nice man’s art on fire.”
“I can make it turn blue when he sets it on fire. Ask him if he wants blue fire,” Wylan insisted, turning to Jesper.
How dare this random merchant brat order Jesper around so casually in his own country?
….whatever. Jesper was obsessed with him.
Rolling his eyes, he signaled for the wagon to wait as he walked over to the man and smiled, repeating Wylan’s question. The man blinked once.
“...zowa?” he asked Wylan curiously. Wylan bristled.
“I’m not an Inferni,” he said as Jesper answered in Zemeni. The man looked skeptical and replied.
“He wants to know how you plan on making blue fire without being zowa,” Jesper said. The second the question was asked, Nina sat down on a stool that had been near one of the stands. Jesper didn’t blame her. Wylan could go on when it came to chemistry.
Sure enough, Wylan launched into an excited lecture as Jesper hastily tried to keep up with translations. The man listened quietly. He got the feeling this stranger must have had some sort of understanding of all of Wylan’s chemistry terms because he gave a low hum and then jerked his chin towards the statue.
Wylan set down his flute, pulling off the satchel over his shoulder, and set to work. Jesper smiled fondly, letting him work as he fell next to Nina. They whispered to one another for several seconds, making bets on how Kaz would do in all black clothes under the Zemeni sun as Wylan eventually lit the statue up into a stunning blue that had everyone around them going still with awe.
“You’re very talented,” Wylan decided, watching as the wood melted away to reveal color underneath the burnt top. Jesper smiled and relayed the compliment. The man looked pleased and grabbed something from his bag, placing something in Wylan’s hand.
“He says to use acrylics next time. They burn faster and brighter,” Jesper said, a little amused as Wylan wrinkled his nose. Jesper could see him thinking through the equation before ultimately deciding he agreed.
“You weren’t impressed were you?” Wylan asked. The man snorted and answered in Kerch.
“I was,” he said with a sly smirk. “It isn’t everyday you see a Kerch merchant with a thought. Let alone enough thoughts to know how elements work.”
Oh. Jesper bit back a laugh. He turned to see Wylan’s expression, but luckily his boyfriend looked positively overjoyed by the comment.
“You must have met my father.”
The man laughed and Jesper shook his head, leaving to let them talk as the others piled into the wagon. He sighed, falling against the seat so his head was tilted up, breathing slowly. He could hear singing somewhere in the distance - an amended folk song from when he was little.
Bless her, she’s a saint, the person called out in Zemeni. Bless her, she saved a saint.
That was a new verse. Jesper couldn’t help but bitterly think that it didn’t go with the rest of the song. The wagon shifted, and he felt Wylan plop down next to him, arms filled with tiny sculptures. Jesper smiled a little at his clear pleasure as the wagon jolted forward.
“How much were those?”
“I got them for free,” Wylan said. Nina snorted. “...but I gave him some money. Just in case. Do kruge mean anything here?” he asked. Damnit. Jesper forgot to exchange their money. He ran a hand over his face. Whatever, people would still accept it. Probably.
“Depends on the person,” he answered Wylan. “He can probably use it to- what is that?” Jesper interrupted himself. One of the statues had caught his attention, the little wooden figurine catching him off-guard. Wylan shrugged, looking at the bottom of the statue to read the description.
“It’s karinia,” he muttered and then wrinkled his nose. “You taught me this word. Karinia. Ka- oh! The Mother,” he said proudly. Jesper stared. “Right? That’s what that means? The statue is called the Mother?” he asked.
Jesper looked at him - suddenly unsure of what to do or say. His eyes fell back to the statue, resisting the urge to scream.
“Yes,” he said, and cleared his throat so that his voice wouldn’t be so tight. “That’s right.”
Wylan smiled at him, but Jesper found it a little hard to return it. He lightly grabbed the figurine, running his thumb over the face. It looked like a generic woman. She wore a long, swirling dress with her hair done up in braids as she held out her hands. Jesper shook his head and handed it back.
“Do you lot want to stop off and see the big statue?” their driver asked. Inej tilted her head.
“Big statue?” she repeated.
Nina smiled down at her lap. “Leoni,” she said fondly. Jesper jerked his head up. “Leoni Hilli is who they keep talking about here,” she explained. The driver gave a murmured prayer. “Inej, I’m guessing you’re familiar?” she asked. Jesper stared at her.
“Sankta Leoni of the Waters,” Inej nodded and flicked out a new knife. “A good friend to have at sea.”
…Jesper was going to throw up on them. Perhaps the disgust showed on his face because when he looked up, Kaz was staring at him. He quickly looked away. It wasn’t that he was upset with his friends. It was that the damn letter in his pocket kept feeling heavier with every movement and it was Leoni’s fault.
He had never met her. Had never really wanted to. Until recently, he tried not to think too much about her. After all, he didn’t really hold any ill will towards her. She was just a dying girl his mother had saved. That was as much as he had been willing to think on it. Up until they got to Novyi Zem’s shores this morning, that is.
“I know her,” Nina said. Jesper bit his tongue. “She’s in the Second Army. Smart girl. Very bubbly-”
“You know Sankta Leoni?” the driver asked in clear awe. Nina flipped her hair with a charming smile. “Incredible- you know she’s Novyi Zem’s first saint in so long. Ravka got the last one,” he said with a shake of his head. Did it even really count, Jesper wondered. Sure, Leoni was born in Novyi Zem, but she ran off to Ravka. She gained her sainthood in Fjerda. It felt like she shouldn’t count. “And you know what?” the driver continued. “The Mother was Zemeni, too,” he added.
The Mother. Jesper wanted to get out of this wagon.
“What’s that?” Wylan asked, eyes bright and curious. The wagon rattled as it went over a bump. Kaz scowled, kneading his knee as he glared at the driver.
“Ah, well,” the man said, turning back to the dirt road. “You have to know the Mother. She’s part of the legend-”
“Your Kerch is out of practice,” Jesper cut in coldly. Everyone turned to him. “These are real people. They were real people. Not legends. Not figurines. Not statues. Not characters in your ridiculous stories,” he added under his breath. “Aditi Hilli was not a legend,” he tacked on. “Use a different word.”
An awkward silence followed, but Jesper didn’t care. Nobody in this wagon except for maybe the driver knew the name. Perhaps Nina did, actually, but not in relation to him. The driver cleared his throat, bowing his head slightly.
“You’re right,” he said, the excitement in his voice flattening to something a bit more solemn. “Sankta Leoni wouldn’t want us fictionalizing her savior.” Jesper wanted to shoot him for that but the man had already started talking again. “Aditi Hilli was said to be a powerful zowa. Um, Grisha, as you Kerch say,” he nodded. “Anyways, when Sankta Leoni was a child, she was poisoned by her enemies-” She had drunk some bad well water, but sure. “-and spent days dying slowly in terrible pain.” It was hours, if Jesper remembered correctly. He supposed that didn’t make for a good story. “And Aditi, this saint in her own right, sensed something was wrong.”
Come on. Someone called for her in the middle of the night. Jesper looked out of the back of the wagon, busying himself with lands of rolling gold - the jurda growing up to the farmers’ waists. It was beautiful with the sky a brilliant blue above and the clouds the fluffiest white he hadn’t seen anywhere but in Novyi Zem. Birds soared overhead, singing brightly as they dove into the thicket of plants.
“-and she pulled the poison out of Sankta Leoni,” the driver was saying. “But by ingesting the poison, she gave her life. We’ll pass by her husband’s house, actually,” the driver said. Jesper said nothing. He might have perhaps given their driver a different address than his father’s farm. For safety reasons if nothing else. “They said he never remarried. Nobody sees him much - or their son.”
“They had a son?” Inej asked softly. “That’s so sad.”
Kaz’s eyes were drilling into him. Jesper refused to meet his gaze, knowing that if he did, he would confirm that damnable conclusion that Kaz had probably reached about ten minutes into this stupid ride.
“Tragic, really,” the driver agreed. “Rumor has it he fled from Novyi Zem. There’s a prophet that says he gained his mother’s talents and his father had to hide him before others came hunting for him.”
Wait. Jesper frowned. Hunting for him? For a brief moment, he felt a swell of concern, but it died a moment later. Nothing this man had said had much truth to it. Only glimmers that were mixed in with whatever inane fairytales they liked to spout. He wouldn’t be playing that game.
“He’s supposed to be prophesied as the next protector of saints.”
Jesper turned his laugh into a cough. Yeah. Right. Okay, he was confirmed in his belief that this man was full of bullshit. The wagon rolled to a stop, and Jesper looked out with a grimace to see they really had pulled up next to an unholy sort of statue. Two, technically. Nina popped her head out and cackled.
“Oh, Leoni did not condone this,” she said, hopping out to get a better look. A crowd of people were gathered around that statues upon - what Jesper was only now just realizing - was the fucking well. This had been Leoni’s farm. This was where his mother had died.
And here people were. Most of them weren’t even from Novyi Zem. There were masses of Fjerdans mulling about. Praying. For a saint and a Grisha of all things. Ravkans and Shu were in the mix, too, but Jesper couldn’t get over the sheer amount of Fjerdans all whispering as they pointed up at the statues.
He walked up, pulling his hood up absently. His father had tried to warn him as they docked. He said people knew he was Kaelish and it wouldn’t be hard for some to put together a boy with Zemeni skin and Kaelish eyes had some relation to the stories they were spewing back and forth.
Annoying. He looked up at the statues - one of a young girl dressed in a flowing dress and her palms filled with some sort of gems. Behind her was a woman. Less detail was given to her than Leoni - her face more of a question - but her hand firmly placed on Leoni’s shoulder. Nina slid up next to him.
“They did a really good job,” she said, staring at Leoni’s statue. “It looks just like her.”
Jesper stared at this mother. “No,” he said softly. “It doesn’t.”
He didn’t think so, anyway. If he was completely honest with himself… he didn’t truly remember what his mother had looked like. He only had glimmers and her portrait to go off of. A portrait he hadn’t seen in many years. A few people passed by, pointing up in awe.
“Jes,” Nina said, and he tilted his head in acknowledgement. “Are you okay? You seem a little… tense.” She grabbed his arm, turning him slightly. “Hey, we really are on our best behavior, okay? I promise I won’t let Kaz do something stupid and get you in trouble.” She smiled and held up the small ball. “I do understand the depth of what this means. Thank you for giving us these.”
Oh. For a moment, Jesper’s moodiness waned, giving into the softness at how genuine Nina looked as she said the words. He thought about hugging her, but at that moment, the song about Leoni started again - this time Kaelish.
Jesper’s jaw tightened. He couldn’t remember the last time he had felt this kind of anger - a deep burning that boiled up inside of him, the heat blistering in his veins as he stood there, keeping his expression blank.
“She had special powers,” one man said, looking up at the statue.
Jesper had to keep his voice even as he answered, ignoring Nina’s rising curiosity beside him. “Did she?”
The man nodded sagely. “She must have. Perhaps she saw the future or something. I mean, she had to know Sankta Leoni would be a hero. Why else would she willingly die and leave her own child behind?”
Jesper swore to every god this world had to offer that if he ever saw Leoni Hilli’s face, he would hold her at gunpoint until she took these ridiculous statues down herself. He turned away, stomping back onto the wagon. Kaz and Wylan were already back onboard, both looking bored and excited, respectively. Inej reappeared with Nina, excitedly whispering as Nina promised she would get Inej an audience with an actual saint.
Whatever.
“What did you think?” the driver asked, spurring the horse forward.
Jesper had a very opinionated answer planned but was cut off by a thunk.
“JESPER!”
The wagon halted and Jesper’s head shot up. He knew that voice.
“...fuck,” he muttered. “Uh, Hana?” he called, and a head poked around the corner. “Hana,” Jesper said, unenthusiastically. He rose his hand to keep the others from drawing their weapons. A girl was right at the end of the wagon, giving a bright wave to the driver.
“Hello, baby cousin,” she greeted in Zemeni. “I heard you were visiting. Did nobody tell you that you passed your farm a few miles back?”
“Baby cousin?” Nina said in Kerch. Right. Yes. She knew Zemeni. He totally forgot she was fluent. That would inevitably be a problem at some point. Jesper turned back to Hana.
“You know Kerch, right?” he asked her. Hana wrinkled her nose. She was only a few years older than them, with her hair braided at the scalp and worn freely at the end - almost like a dark cloud placed directly behind her.
“I can speak it… passably,” she said with distaste. She hit the bench beside her and the wagon started moving again. “Do you speak Kerch all the time?”
Jesper fixed her with an exasperated look.
“In Kerch? Yes.”
“Terrible,” Hana muttered, unbothered by Jesper's biting sarcasm. “It is such an angry language. No offense,” she added. Inej looked around - clearly confused, before offering her hand.
“Sorry, I don’t think we’ve met. I’m Inej. This is-”
“Kaz, Nina, and Wylan. I know. Uncle Colm told us you were coming.”
Unanimously, the group turned to Jesper. What? It wasn’t like Nina didn’t already tell them.
“This is my cousin,” he said, flicking Hana as she waved. “She actually lives a few acres away so…?” he began, a little uncertain as to why Hana was here. This was answered by Hana giving a truly terrifying grin and tossing her feet up on the bench.
“Oh, I’m here for the family drama. My dad wants to talk to you,” she sang. Jesper made a face. He loved his uncle… but he probably wasn’t coming for a fun chat. “Apparently, Leoni Hilli is now a saint. Can you believe it?” she asked. Jesper gave a tight smile.
“Nina told me,” he said, tapping his knee. “She’s in the Second Army-”
“Jesper, you have to go. You have to,” Hana interrupted. Jesper sighed, and looked away. “Everyone wants you to. Your father won’t say it, but he wants you to go as well.”
“Go where?” Wylan interjected. He looked between them all and offered a bashful smile. “Sorry, I know you’re speaking Kerch so we can understand, but I’m feeling a little lost still,” he said, nudging Jesper. A long pause followed. Hana curiously looked around the wagon as if just realizing they were even listening.
“It’s nothing,” Jesper said and ran a hand over his face. Hana made a noise of affront. “It doesn’t really have anything to do with me-”
“Yes, it does,” Hana argued. The wagon shuddered as they went over a bump. “All the prophets are talking about it.”
“The prophets are idiots,” Jesper said. “And these people are harassing my poor father and-”
The driver shrieked. Jesper jumped, pulling out his gun so fast that the horse jerked back in alarm. The wagon shook back and forth until a calm settled over them, leaving them to wonder what exactly had happened. The driver turned, eyes blown wide.
“You are him!” he gasped. Jesper sank into his seat. Hana gave a wry snort. “I knew it. They said in the stories that Aditi was Zemeni and her lover was Kaelish.”
“Ew,” Jesper said, making a face. “Let’s go with husband-”
“I knew when I saw your eyes-”
“Okay,” Hana cut in, holding up both hands. “Look, there are plenty of Kaelish and Zemeni people who have fallen in love here. Don’t be weird,” she said. Jesper shot her a grateful look. “Granted, in this specific area, there are only a handful…and, I mean, yeah, this is totally Aditi’s son-”
“Hana!”
The driver whispered a prayer. Jesper buried his face in his hands. From his left, he felt Nina go still. The driver was rambling, trying to thank Jesper for his mother’s service and apologizing for any offense and this and that and-
“Please, just drive. To my father’s farm. I’ll pay you to please keep this quiet,” he added, voice turning into a plea during the last part. Immediately, he went silent, urging the horse forward. When he looked up five pairs of eyes were fixed on him - Hana smiling brightly at him as they went.
When nobody said anything, Hana turned to the others.
“So, you’re pretty much part of the family now, right? I hope you like game nights.”
Only Jesper’s luck would be this bad.