This Poisoned Tide: The Last Water Witch Book One

CHAPTER 6

'Do you know, I think that one there has a look of Leon Kro-Balnar about him.' Anton said, pursing his lips as he pointed at a particularly ugly brute of a brogboar, that was snorting plumes of cloudy breath through its excessively large nostrils and butting its head against the gate of the holding pen. 'Something about its eyes. They're a little too close together.'

Bazel craned his neck to look down into the stinking melee of beasts, as they pushed and shunted each other to be free. 'Well, if that droukza's balls are anything to go by, then it couldn't be more different from the stories you've told of Kro-Balnar.'

Anton wrinkled his nose and nodded. 'Hmm, yes, such a pity. For a man with a purse as big as his, to be so unimpressive when undressed, it truly is one of life's travesties.'

'Men who are unimpressive when naked, tend to overcompensate with large purses and generous tips,' Kelena said, slapping Anton on the back. 'You can't have it all, my friend.' Thrusting out her fist at a passing Turf-Rat – the agents who took the wagers - she dropped a pile of coins into his waiting palm. 'Half a King's dram on number ten there,' she said, gesturing towards the same brogboar.

The Turf-Rat scrawled down Kelena's wager in his book and tore off her ticket, pocketing the coins into his leather bag, ready to pass onto the Book Master, before moving onto the next gambler. There were many agents running the gathering crowds this morntide, weaving in and out of the jostling bodies with ease, their bags weighted to their hips to avoid the eager hands of those who would gladly relieve them of their earnings. Even Bazel knew better than to try and thieve from the Turf-Rats, for while his nimble fingers and slight hands could lift the trickiest of treasures, the Book Master's reach was wide in the slums, and it was a rare tide that anyone escaped with what was rightfully his. His retribution was swift and merciless and a good share of the bodies rotting on the bed of the Setalah, had been those who had wrongly believed they could cross him and get away with it.

'Always bet on the beast whose balls are almost as big as his tusks,' Kelena said, with a wry grin, as she tucked her race ticket into the bindings that peaked at the opening of her tunic. 'The larger the balls, the more aggressive they are.'

'Isn't that the truth?' Anton said, his fingers fluttering at his throat, where a bruise angered his flesh from his previous night's employment.

Elara held his gaze when he caught her looking, but Anton ignored her, as he always did. He was often returning to their dwelling with some fresh bruise or welt, where his clients enthusiasm overspilled into something darker, yet he dismissed Elara's objections every time. A coin is a coin, he would always say, but Elara knew it was why he preferred the likes of Kro-Balnar, who much preferred to be dominated than act the aggressor. And Kelena was right, the tips were always generous.

'In fact, my money is on the very same beast,' he continued.

'It is?' Bazel said, his brow pinched as he scowled at them both. 'Well why didn't you say? I wagered my bet on that smaller one there,' he said, jabbing a finger into the brogboar pit and pointing out a creature far less impressive than Anton and Kelena's choice. 'It's fast. Look. See how it darts in-between the bigger beasts? I put a full dram down on that skinny bastard.'