Free Principles of Angels by Jaine Fenn

sunken vane; the ’trap mender waved for Taro to join him. But he was attracting attention from all over the room, especially from a group of a dozen or so brightly dressed youths in the far corner: his new troupe-mates. The girls had cut their shirts so they fell off the shoulder, and both sexes had dark eyeliner around their eyes, and red-stained lips. They weren’t hostile so much as curious, but they weren’t inviting him to join them either. He nodded to Osin, waved at the tarts and chose a space by himself against the wall.
     
    Cooks entered, carrying a couple of steaming cauldrons slung on yokes. A murmur of appreciation went up as someone spotted meat in the stew. Taro, remembering this morning’s hunt, was less wild about it - right up to the point the smell hit his stomach.
     
    The troupe ate quietly, conversations muted. When the bowls were empty and the slops washed out in cauldrons of steaming water brought by the cooks, silence fell.
     
    Limnel stood up. ‘Three announcements this evenin’. Firstly, Shera’s ’ad a boy. It was an ’ard birth and she’s still at the healers. Yers can go visit her, but go in yer free time, an’ take a sunwise diversion so’s yers don’t go through Rinya’s territory. No point flauntin’ our colours and causin’ trouble with ’er gang until I says. Second, fer those of you who know Daim an’ Arel, Daim took the fall. We ain’t got no one else to partner Arel, so she’s joinin’ the sluts. And we got another new whore’ - he nodded at Taro - ‘who some of yers might know. Taro’s on probation, earnin’ his new colours.’
     
    That got Taro more curious, not-quite-hostile looks. When Limnel sat down again, people started to get up. Taro stood and moved towards Osin, but a lag with narrow-set eyes and enough topsider blood in him to make him shorter than anyone else Taro had seen there so far came down from the table to intercept him. ‘I’m Keron,’ said the boy. ‘Yer one of me sluts now.’
     
    Taro nodded and made to follow the giggling mass of pretty boys and girls as they headed out the main door, but Keron grabbed his arm. ‘Oh no, yer ofta see a special client.’
     
    He led Taro out the back of the hall towards the room where Limnel held court, talking all the time. ‘She likes to try all the new boys. After her, anythin’ ya pick up topside’ll be top prime.’ He gave a nasal laugh. ‘Tell yer what, why don’t I give yer a little ’elp? How about it, eh? Somethin’ to make sure things is well bolted?’
     
    He grabbed Taro’s arm again and pulled him into Limnel’s room, which was currently empty. He picked his way through the cushions to Limnel’s couch, lifted out a carved wooden box from the cabinet and placed it on top, then started fiddling with the tumbler lock on the front of the box.
     
    Taro stayed by the door. ‘You sure Limnel ain’t gonna mind?’ he asked a little nervously. ‘I mean, ain’t this his private stuff?’ This was just the type of smoky business he wanted to avoid: the new boy getting the blame for whatever shit anyone wanted to lay on him.
     
    Keron shook his head. ‘No, no, the boss is prime with this.’ The box clicked open and Keron gestured for Taro to come over. ‘This gear’s new, but he’s got shitloads of it - this box is fer general use, all ’is top people know the combination. Fortunate fer us ’e’s so generous. Here.’ Keron held out a snorting spoon loaded with golden powder.
     
    Taro hesitated. He’d drunk booze and shared smokes and powders with clients before now, but the look in Keron’s eyes suggested that this was more than a mild mood enhancer. Serious drugs were either a final resort for the lost, or a luxury for those who could handle the risks, like Angels. Malia had gone on binges more than once, using burnt mash or topside designer chemicals, and Taro understood why; earning your glory killing strangers had its price. He didn’t have any reason to go chasing