Our Fractured Souls | Kaz Brekker

[06]

6

Kaz

Kaz followed the East Stave toward the harbour, through the beginnings of the Barrel's gambling district. The Barrel was bracketed by two major canals, the East Stave and the West Stave, each catering to a particular clientele, and separated by a tangle of narrow streets and much more minor waterways.

The buildings of the Barrel were different from anywhere else in Ketterdam, bigger, wider, painted in every garish colour, clamouring for attention from passersby - the Treasure Chest, the Golden Bend, Weddle's Riverboat.

The best of the betting halls were located further north, in the prime real estate of the Lid, the section of the canal closest to the harbours, favourably situated to attract tourists and sailors coming to port.

But not the Crow Club. Kaz mused as he looked up at the black-and-crimson facade. It had taken a lot to lure tourists and risk-hungry merchers this far south for entertainment.

Now the harbour was coming up on four bells and the crowds were still thick outside the club. Kaz watched the tide of people flowing past the portico's black columns, beneath the watchful eye of the oxidised silver crow that spread its wings above the entrance.

Bless the pigeons, He thought. Bless all you kind and generous folk ready to empty your wallets into the Dregs' coffers and call it a good time.

He could see barkers out front shouting to potential customers, offering free drinks, hot pots of coffee, and the fairest deal in all of Ketterdam.

He acknowledged them with a nod and pressed further north.

Only one gambling den on the Stave mattered to him; the Emerald Palace, Pekka Rollins' pride and joy.

He sneered at it as he briskly walked past the ugly green face, decked in artificial trees and laden with fake gold and silver coins.

He wished Viktorya was at his side right now, maybe they'd be brewing in their hatred for the place together. As it was done up as some kind of tribute to Rollins' Kaelish heritage and his gang, the Dime Lions.

Even the girls working the chip tables wore glittering green sheaths of silk and had their hair tinged a dark, unnatural red to mimic the look of the girls from the Wandering Isle.

Kaz scoffed at the thought. Nothing could beat truly ginger hair. It glinted and glowed like fire when the sun hit it just right. The cheap tacky tint of the girls in the Emerald Palace was like an insult.

As he finally passed by the Emerald, he looked up at the false gold coins and let the anger come over him.

He needed it tonight, after Vik's breakdown, a reminder of what the two of them had lost and what he stood to gain. He needed it desperately to prepare him for his reckless endeavour.

"Brick by brick." he muttered to himself.

They were the only words that kept his burning rage in check, seeing anything related to the Dime Lions or Pekka's empire. It prevented him from striding through the Emerald's garish gold and green doors, demanding a private audience with Rollins, and slitting his throat.

But if he did that. Viktorya would absolutely rip his head off.

That was a promise he'd made after he took her out of the Sweet Shop. If they were going to take Rollins down, they'd be doing it together, or not at all.