Read Principles of Angels Online
Authors: Jaine Fenn
Principles of Angels (9 page)
He’d arrived late, after a detour to fetch his bowl and spoon from his pack. He spotted Osin with a group of older men on a 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 oblivion like that. But he wasn’t being given a choice. Keron was his new boss.
‘C’mon, Taro. Ya’ll thank me fer this later.’
Taro wasn’t so sure, but he obviously had no choice. He guided the spoon under one nostril, pressed the other one shut and sniffed.
It hit fast, hard and beautiful, singing through his head and setting the tips of his fingers tingling. Taro drew a long slow breath, feeling the universe settle into place.
Keron was saying something, but Taro only managed to catch up partway through. ‘—pure blade, eh?’
He smiled at Keron, his friend Keron, though smiling made his face feel funny. Keron smiled back, eyes bright. For what may have been a minute or an hour, they stood together, swaying gently, Keron still holding the spoon. Then Keron exhaled hard, put the spoon back in the box, and said, ‘Let’s get ya to the bitch ’fore the rush fades.’
Taro followed Keron, trying not to trip over anything, past a couple of curtained doorways, then round a corner; the next opening had a solid door instead of a curtain. A stocky woman with a face like she was sucking on a bone was bending down locking the door. ‘Hey, watch it!’ she barked when they nearly ran into her. Taro had an idea he’d seen her earlier, sitting at a table somewhere. He smiled at her. She should chill out, join the party.
She smiled back, but Keron shook his head at her. ‘He ain’t fer yer.’
The woman grabbed Taro’s crotch. ‘I dunno, Keron, I’d say there’s plenty fer everyone here.’ Taro wriggled obligingly. Sex: now that
was
a top prime idea. If he felt this good now, imagine how good he’d feel when—
was
a top prime idea. If he felt this good now, imagine how good he’d feel when—
Keron pulled him away, though not before his breeches had got a lot tighter.
‘Can’t I just—?’
‘No. Not yet.’
Keron led him past the door to the next opening, which was covered by a red mesh curtain. He pulled the curtain aside. ‘In ya go, Taro,’ he said. ‘Jus’ do whatever the lady wants.’
The room was small, no floor-gap, and empty save for a grubby mattress. A woman lay in the middle of the mattress, half under a thin blanket. She was arse-ugly, and one arm and one leg were withered, twisted as a meatbaby’s. Sweet incense burned on a shelf next to the lamp, though underneath it Taro smelled something like rotten meat. She glanced at his face before her gaze dropped to his groin. Her face fell into a sucked-in grin. Taro grinned back, even though she wasn’t looking at his face any more. She held out her arms and he fell onto the mattress next to her and started to struggle out of his breeches; he preferred the first one they’d met, but right now he wasn’t feeling all that fussy.
She batted him away and muttered, ‘With yer mouth first, boy. Take yer time.’
He wriggled down the bed and obeyed. She tasted dry and sour and his cock protested at being ignored, but this was what she wanted and he was going to give it to her. He was good at this, he knew he was. Sex was his salvation. There’d been other stuff, some time in the past, bad, painful stuff, but in the end the path of the grind was the way and the truth. Give pleasure, obey and be happy.
After a while she had him move up and mount her, warning him to be careful of her dodgy leg. There were some scary sights on the way, but then he was in her and she was laughing and pushing back against him and he had the rhythm she wanted almost at once and he moved the way he knew she’d love and she did, she did, she did. She gave a short yelp, squeezing him between her thighs and he thought he’d come too, only he didn’t, he stayed right up there near the peak.
‘Aye there, boy, that’s prime, top prime,’ she breathed into his ear. ‘Now, again.’ He obliged, but this time he couldn’t hold it in any longer and he came like the City was falling round his ears.
It was the best ever. Nothing else mattered. This was what life was for.
After he was spent she had him withdraw and work her again with his fingers and mouth. He was getting a little tired now, but finally she pushed him away and sat up, saying, ‘Enough, boy.’
She wiped herself off with a rag and started getting dressed. Taro lounged on the mattress, at peace with the world. He was a little worried that he might have to move at some point, as his legs appeared to have stopped working, but really, if he died right now that wouldn’t be so bad.
At the curtain the woman turned and said, ‘That was good, boy. I’ll ask fer you again. What’s yer name?’
‘Taro,’ he said dreamily.
After she’d gone he curled up on his side. He was just slipping away to an even happier place when he felt someone shake his shoulder.
‘Can’t sleep ’ere, Taro.’
Keron helped him up. He still felt good, but somewhere at the back of his head the beginnings of a killer headache had begun to sidle in. Limnel passed them as Keron led him back to the whores’ sleeping room.
‘How’d he do?’ the gang-boss asked.
‘Quality, boss. She loved him.’
‘Prime.’
Limnel turned to Taro. He raised a hand and took one of Taro’s braids. Taro let him. Why not? Limnel wasn’t such a smoky boss to work for.
He teased out a strand of red cord from the braid, twisting it between his fingers. ‘Ya know what, Taro? I think we’re gonna get along just fine.’
CHAPTER EIGHT
It had been a busy morning and Ando Meraint was looking forward to getting out of the office for lunch, but when the door chime went he decided to check the cameras anyway. If he was going to make enough money to keep up with his darling wife’s gambling habit and still send his daughters to a decent school on one of the better Kheshi habitats, he needed to stay open to every opportunity.
His cameras showed a mature, striking-looking woman at the foot of the stairs. She wasn’t wearing City colours and she was dressed with a level of taste rare outside the State Quarter. Meraint pressed the buzzer to let her in.
The woman was paler and taller than most Kheshi. Her clothes were expensive and she wore her light-brown hair plaited and piled elaborately round her head. His scanners hadn’t picked up any weapons on her, not even a knife. She wore an expression of calm determination.
Ando Meraint found it paid to work out what people wanted and give it to them, and he extended this to treating people the way he thought they wanted to be treated. So he met her at the door, showed her in and offered her refreshments.
She accepted the courtesy of being shown to her seat graciously, but refused the drink. ‘I’d like to get straight down to business, Sirrah Meraint, if that’s all right with you.’ Her accent confirmed she wasn’t local.
He settled down behind his desk. ‘Of course, medame. How may I help you?’
‘I understand that you find, filter and collate information.’
‘That’s one way of describing infobroking, yes.’ A very succinct way, in fact. He called up the basic price-list. ‘You’ll see the services and associated charges displayed on the flatscreen set into the desk in front of you.’
She scanned the screen, pressed her lips together, then said, ‘I hope you won’t think me rude, but I have to ask: in a City without rules, where information is freely available, what precisely would I be paying for?
‘A reasonable question. Firstly, it is a common misconception that the Three Cities have no rules. For example, the statutes of the Concord are both explicitly stated and rigidly enforced.’
‘I know, I’ve read them. I found them surprisingly dry reading, considering the process they regulate.’
Her tone conveyed a mixture of distaste and unease. Meraint concluded that she was either doing a good job of affecting disapproval, or else she was one of those rare visitors who was not attracted by the idea of a democracy by assassination - which was one thing he had in common with her. ‘I must agree, medame. However, I was about to add that whilst the Concord has little direct effect on most people’s lives, other regulations do exist. Visitors can sometimes find themselves subject to fines or private lawsuits without even realising they have transgressed.’
‘I can imagine. But you haven’t answered my original question. If the information is there for the taking, just what is your role?’
‘My service pulls together all publicly available data. I also have access to various private systems. Searches on some of these are included in the price, though certain specialist ones may cost a little more.’
‘What about surveillance?’ she asked. ‘I have seen no evidence of it, yet I assume we are all being watched and recorded. Would you be able to access surveillance data?’
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