Kira's Private Box
The attendent hurried notes down all the orders, while Kira stares at Chwegwn's nearest body without expression.
Then she seems to cough, a rough sound sputtering from her throat as her head jerks back. Like a chainsaw revving. The sound builds and after a moment you realize - she's laughing, uproariously, with a noise like a turbine with a sticky axle.
"Oh that's a good one, Chegs. Tell you a secret for free - he's not a real Seer. Has some foresight from fuck knows where, but the best he can do before those guns is recognize in front of them as a bad place to be."
She wipes a nonexistent tear from her cheek and chuckles like an idle engine.
"But that's good - automatic forfeit, you win some gems. When the dogsbody comes back I'll tell them - that has to be good for twenty talents."
A talent is the informal measure of a hundredweight of gems. Even one is a huge fortune to the least of Kontina's inhabitants. To Chwegwn it's a very convenient way to pay wages this month.
To Adrian, it's money, probably, honestly you're meant to have people for that kind of thing. Well, perhaps not people, but a thing in a vat that obssesses about counting figures so you can focus on the important stuff.
The attendant returns and serves the food. Both Adrian and the Surprise body are served a steaming bloody haunch on a bed of local vegetables. Neither is entirely sure what it is.
"Place your bets, lads," Kira says, handing the attendant a note and a single, large, finely cut diamond.