“Ten on Growlsabob for Phineas,” the boy repeated before turning and shouting for new bets.
“Why give a false name?” Toran said in her ear. It wasn’t a whisper, but it still made her shiver. Even grasping his arm, she hadn’t realized how close he’d gotten.
“Because my own name’s too precious,” she said. And she needed to give Phineas a reason to open his door for her. “Besides, no one gives their real name in here. You think his name is really Growlsabob?”
Toran watched the man still roaring in the pit. “It is fitting.”
“This way.”
She wove through the crowd toward her favorite viewing area. The spot nearest the wall was always less crowded. The pit farthest from the door had been dug a bit too close to the wall, making the floor surrounding the pit narrower on the one side. Not many people chose to watch the fights from the thin strip of dirt—there was barely enough room to plant one’s feet—but she preferred it. Standing there felt like teetering on the edge of death; not falling in, like conquering it.
Toran swung his head in the direction of the ledge. “I’m not going out there.”
“Why not? You’re not afraid of heights, are you?”
“No,” he said, “but if you’re going to force me to watch a brawlhouse fight sober, then I’d rather do it someplace I don’t run the risk of falling into the pit myself.”
Sober. That confirmed the ache she’d seen.
“The fights are better when you’re sober. Drunk you stand the chance of missing something.” She sniggered. “Like a rock to the head.”
She scooted closer to the ledge before leaning back against the walland crossing one leg over the other. Toran, though reluctant, settled against the wall beside her.
She slid her hands into her pockets. One held Toran’s ring, the other those strange coins she’d picked up beside Mikaud’s body and in the Drowning Square. She turned all three over, feeling their seams and ridges, while she cast her gaze out from beneath the brim of her hat. Minot had disappeared. Likely tattling on her this very minute. She squeezed the trinkets in her palms and smirked.
“Where’s his opponent?” Toran asked.
She tilted her head to watch as Growlsabob strutted around the pit. It was rare for one of Phineas’s dogs to display anything aside from conceit in a pit.
“I’m sure his opponent will appear soon.”
The show was about to start.
“But you already bet on him to win? Without knowing who he’s fighting?”
She tsked. “So many questions, Captain. Haven’t you been to a brawlhouse before?”
“I have no interest in such places.”
She pushed up off the wall. “If you want to get anything out of tonight, you better take the stick out of your ass.”
“And you should try to remember this is my mission.”
“Good luck finding the Witch without me.”
They glared at each other until the boy taking bets announced the fight would begin in two minutes. She turned away from Toran with a growl. She pressed her back against the wall. Toran shrugged up beside her.
“Why bet at all?” he asked. “You might have just thrown your money away.”
She eyed him. “I’m sure I did. Give me your cloak.”
“No.”
“Oh, come on. Just give it.”
“What for?”
She curled her shoulders into her neck. “I’m cold.”
