Kaz Brekker

The rain fell on Ketterdam as if the city were trying to cleanse itself of centuries of grime… and had long since given up on achieving it.

Water trickled down crooked rooftops, narrow alleyways, and black gutters where bits of trash, rotting wood, and secrets too expensive to speak aloud floated. Gas lamps barely pierced the damp harbor fog, tinting the streets with a sickly, yellowish glow.

Ketterdam never really slept.

It just changed predators.

At that hour, gamblers staggered out of betting houses, thieves slithered through shadows like hungry cats, and merchants closed reinforced doors while pretending not to hear the distant shouts coming from the Barrel.

And in the midst of all that elegant decay, there was the Crow Club.

Reddish lights behind fogged windows.
Music off.
Fake laughter.
Money changing hands faster than the city's morale.

From the outside it looked like just another gambling club full of criminals and drunks.

Inside… it was Kaz Brekker territory.

And that meant that every person in that room carefully measured their words.

The air smelled of smoke, strong alcohol, and damp wood when you walked through the club doors. Several conversations died down almost immediately upon seeing you enter. Not exactly out of recognition.

By evaluation.

In Ketterdam everyone first analyzed whether you could be useful... or dangerous.

Behind the bar, Jesper Fahey looked up as he twirled a coin between his fingers with a smile that was too relaxed for someone surrounded by armed criminals.

"Well, well..." he murmured, amused. "I hope you're the kind of interesting problem. Kaz's been in a terrible mood lately."

A man lost money at a nearby table and started shouting accusations of cheating. Nobody seemed too bothered.

Jesper didn't even look in that direction.

—Third time this week—he commented with absolute calm.—. I give him twenty seconds before they throw him into the canal.

Seventeen seconds later there was a bang, insults and a distant splash outside.

Jesper smiled contentedly.

—Ah. I love consistency.

Then someone slowly descended the upper stairs of the club.

And the atmosphere changed.

Not in an exaggerated way.
Not theatrical.

Worse.

The entire room seemed to tense up by barely an inch.

Kaz Brekker advanced, leaning lightly on his silver-crow-headed cane. Impeccable dark suit. Black gloves. Hair damp from the night's rain. Slender to the point of seeming almost fragile… except for the unsettling feeling of absolute danger that followed him like a shadow.

He didn't need to raise his voice.
Nor to impose oneself physically.

Kaz Brekker walked like someone who had already decided exactly how much each person in the room was worth.

And how much would it cost to destroy them?

His dark eyes locked onto you immediately.

Live broadcasts.
Precise.
Too intelligent.

For a few seconds he said nothing. He just watched.

As if he were taking you apart piece by piece inside his head.

The music continued to play.
Someone laughed in the background.
The rain hit the windows.

But around Kaz the air seemed strangely still.

Finally, he reached the table in the most secluded corner of the club and placed on it several documents, maps, and a small dagger stained with dried blood.

"You're late," he finally said.

His voice was deep, calm, and dangerously controlled.

He didn't sound angry.
Kaz rarely sounded angry.

It sounded worse:
interested.

His gloved fingers tapped gently on the cane as he barely inclined his head towards you.

—Although if Jesper hasn't scared you yet, I suppose that already improves my expectations quite a bit.

"Hey," Jesper protested from the bar. "I'm charming."

—You're a debt with a hat.

Jesper seemed offended.
It only lasted two seconds.

Kaz completely ignored the exchange and turned his attention back to you.

The rain pattered harder on the glass.

Then he slid one of the maps forward.

Several areas of the port were marked with black ink.

And some names had been crossed out.

"Three shipments have disappeared this week," he explained, without taking his eyes off you. "Not stolen. Disappeared. Crew included."

The Crow Club suddenly seemed quieter.

—And someone is paying absurd amounts of money to find something that we still don't know what it is.

A pause.

Kaz slowly placed both hands on the cane.

—Which means two things: someone is lying… and we’re probably going to end up surrounded by corpses before this is over.

The corner of her mouth curved slightly.

It wasn't exactly a smile.

It was a bit colder.
Sharper.

—Welcome to Ketterdam.

From somewhere on the upper floor came the soft creak of a window opening. A slender figure moved among the shadows on the ceiling before silently disappearing again.

Inej Ghafa had probably been observing everything for several minutes already.

Kaz didn't even look up.

As if he knew perfectly well that she was there.

As if I always knew.

Then he fixed that dark, unreadable gaze on you again.

Calculator.
Sold out.
Hungry for control.

"Sit down," he finally ordered. "And try to decide quickly which side you want to be on."

The trick in Ketterdam wasn't surviving the monsters.

It was about discovering which one offered you the best odds.