Principles of Angels

by Jaine Fenn

‘So, yer meetin’ a tourist at an Angel bar in the Undertow.’ Limnel sucked at his lip. ‘Right.’

  ‘Aye, yer right. It’s not a punter.’

  ‘How ’bout ya stop shittin’ me, Taro?’

  ‘All right. I gotta run an errand fer the Minister. City’s truth. I hafta go the Corpse. But I’ll come right back.’

  Limnel sighed in fake disappointment. ‘Not good enough. Like I tol’ ya, yer can’t serve two masters.’

  Limnel was right. Taro had to chose, and there was only one choice to make. ‘Then . . . then cut me free from the troupe. Yer right. I shouldn’t’ve come to ya when I still had unfinished City business.’ Gappy idea, leaving him with nowhere to sleep and no way of making a living, but right now he had to get to the Exquisite Corpse and find Nual. Sorting his life out would have to wait.

  Limnel thought for a moment, then said, ‘Think not. I’ve invested too much in ya to jus’ let ya walk away. So why doncha take advantage of me generosity one more time, neh?’

  For a moment Taro thought about making a run for it, but even if he managed to get up without Limnel stopping him, Resh and his friend were waiting just outside the door.

  He leaned forward and let Limnel slide the spoon under his nose.

  ‘Don’t skimp now, Taro. That’s right, snort the whole fuckin’ lot.’

  The rush was as strong as the first time, no less full-on for being familiar. He felt like his brain was trying to escape through the top of his head. His pulse thundered in his ears and his entire body started to sing. For a minute, or perhaps a day, he had no idea where, or who, he was. And it didn’t matter.

  Movement in front of his face. Something waving. Limnel’s hand.

  ‘Now ain’t that jus’ pure blade?’

  ‘Shit . . . aye. Pure. Blade.’ He’d been about to do something, or there was something he needed to do or . . . it was gone. Never mind. If it mattered it’d come back to him. Or not.

  ‘While we wait, why doncha tell me what yer’ve been up to, neh?’

  Taro wasn’t sure what they were waiting for, but Limnel must know. ‘Awright.’ If he could remember, that was.

  ‘What exactly is the deal with yer an’ Nual?’

  Ah Nual. Beautiful, mysterious, crazy Nual. The important thing had something to do with Nual. He wished she was here now. Or, even better, he wished he was with her, somewhere safe.

  ‘Don’t ya go off on me now, boy!’

  Taro looked back at Limnel. Why couldn’t he leave him alone? Limnel was his friend and his boss now. Except the Minister was his boss too. And the Minister had given him something, something important. ‘I think I gotta go somewhere.’

  ‘Go where? To see Nual?’

  ‘Aye. Sorta. I gotta go to the Exquisite Corpse an’ see Solo - it’s a she, d’you know that? - and then wait fer Nual.’

  ‘And when Nual gets there?’

  ‘When Nual gets there I—’ He was definitely on dangerous ground here. He had something for Nual, something he had to keep special and secret and give only to her. Shit and blood, what if he’d lost it? His hand snaked inside his jacket to check.

  Limnel grabbed his wrist and reached into Taro’s pocket with his other hand. He pulled out the black-hearted dataspike. ‘Oh fuck. Holy shittin’ fuck.’

  Bile rose in Taro’s throat and he gulped back a sudden urge to puke. This wasn’t how it was meant to go down, not at all.

  Limnel stared at the chip and then at Taro. He reached a decision. ‘Manak! Resh! Get yer arses in ’ere, now!’ His voice was too loud. Taro cringed.

  Limnel tossed the ’spike to the boy who pulled back the curtain. ‘Get a copy of this. It’ll ’ave shitloads of smoky encryption on it so jus’ take a straight copy, don’t try an’ read it, in fact don’t fuck with it in any way. And bring the original back, pronto.’ The boy nodded and ran out again. ‘Resh, you keep watch.’ Resh looked confused and Limnel spoke more slowly. ‘Give me plenty of warnin’ if we get any visitors.’ Resh’s stolid features cracked into a grin and he too ducked back out the room.

  Taro wasn’t sure what that had been about but he knew things had gone to shit, and it was his fault. ‘I’m sorry,’ he whimpered, not sure what he was sorry for.

  Limnel looked back at him, his eyes feverish. ‘That’s all right, Taro. Everythin’s gonna be prime. Shit. Solid prime, right?’

  ‘I wasn’t meant to give that to yer. It was fer Nual.’

  ‘I know. And ya can ’ave it back in a minute. Now jus’ shut the fuck up a moment. I need t’think.’

  Taro shut up. He should be working out what to do now too, but he wasn’t sure what had already happened, or even what he was doing here. All he wanted to do was just lie in the soft cushions, letting his mind drift . . .

  He looked up as a boy who had been there earlier came up and handed something to Limnel. ‘It copied all right, boss, but you weren’t kidding ’bout the encryption.’

  Limnel took the dataspike, then leaned forward and slipped it back into Taro’s jacket, patting the pocket. ‘See, Taro, I only borrowed it. Couldn’t let a chance like that go by, could I? But if anyone asks, ain’t no need to tell ’em I—’

  Resh called from the doorway. ‘He’s at the front door. Shall I get someone to show ’im in?’

  ‘Shit.’ Limnel murmured to himself, ‘that was quick. No, Resh, just tell him to fuck off back topside again! Of course show ’im in!’

  Limnel frowned, noticing Taro again. Taro smiled back uncertainly. Limnel had given him the dataspike back. Maybe he’d let him go now. ‘Can I—Can I get back to’ - Taro strained to remember what he’d been about to do - ‘tryin’ to find Nual? I gotta find her, see. I’ve already wasted too much time.’

  The boss shook his head. ‘Oh, yer ain’t goin’ nowhere. Understand, this ain’t nothin’ personal, in fact, I’m grateful to ya, boy. Just by being a prideful little slut who don’t know when t’die, yer’ve opened up some prime new opportunities fer me.’ Limnel eased himself off his seat and stood up. Taro heard him say, ‘He’s all yers.’ He looked up to see who he was talking to.

  Limnel headed for the door while Resh held the curtain back for Limnel’s visitor. For a second Taro thought he was hallucinating, because no way could this be happening.

  But it was.

  ‘Hullo again,’ said Scarrion.

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  She had wanted to see a play and here she was, though these were hardly the circumstances she would have chosen. On the semicircular stage below, masked actors declaimed their lines to an almost empty amphitheatre. This was a dress rehearsal; the play was due to open in a couple of days. In what Salik freely admitted was an attempt to curry favour with the intellectuals of Khesh City, he had made a large donation to the production shortly after he was put on the hot-list and in return he had been invited to attend the final rehearsal, an invitation which was apparently still open, despite his fall from grace.

  Elarn scanned the tiers above as she made her way up the steps. In other circumstances, this would have been a pleasant place to visit. The Streets were hidden behind the rampant greenery of the Gardens, their bustle muted to a faint hum. Off to the left the blue dome of the transit hall shone like a jewel in the late afternoon light; she had briefly considered going there instead and getting herself on the first available ship out of the Tri-Confed system. But the Sidhe would be watching for her. She could not leave without trying to complete the task they had given her, even if it now looked as though that task would be impossible.

  She spotted Salik and made her way towards him. The few members of the audience she had to momentarily displace frowned at the intrusion, despite her murmured apologies. There was no sign of the bodyguard; this was a private rehearsal so presumably Salik felt safe enough here. He was watching the actors, leaning forward, chin in hand, with rapt attention and didn’t spot her until she came up next to him.

  He started slightly, then started to smile until he saw her expression. ‘Elarn, what are
you doing here? Is something wrong?’ He sounded worried.

  ‘I’m sorry to barge in like this,’ Elarn said, her voice wobbling a little. ‘I had to talk to someone - I did try to call you, but the first time your com was engaged, and then it kept going to voicemail.’ Fortunately the seats immediately around them were empty and there was no one to shush them. ‘I remembered you said this was your last engagement today, so I came here—’

  ‘And I would have invited you to join me here if I could. But sit down, please.’

  She sank into the seat next to him. ‘Oh, I don’t mean—I know this is a closed performance, you told me at lunch. In fact’ - she tried to laugh, though it came out as more of a sob - ‘I had to prove to the people on the door that I was an offworld visitor with no media connections before they would let me in - and I still had to bribe them! I’ve never had to bribe anyone before.’ Or kill anyone, she thought. Her control was slipping, her carefully constructed façade cracking. She looked down at the masked actors.

  ‘Elarn, has something happened?’

  ‘You could say that.’ She swallowed, trying to dislodge the cold lump of fear in her throat. ‘Salik, I haven’t been entirely honest with you.’

  ‘In what way?’ The play forgotten, he turned to face her, his eyes full of concern.

  ‘While I am on Vellern I have to do something terrible. Not because I want to, you understand, but I’m being blackmailed. I have to kill someone, a person I knew a long time ago.’ There, she’d said it out loud. But the fear remained.

  ‘Elarn . . .’ He searched her face, looking, she supposed, for signs of madness. Finally he said, ‘Even though we’ve only met a few times, I did have the impression that there was something you were holding back. At first I assumed it was something to do with your religion, but then I worked out that you aren’t a Salvatine. Now I guess I know what it was.’

  She gave a brittle laugh. ‘You’re taking this very well.’

  He took her hands, which lay like dead things in her lap. ‘I live on a world governed by consensus murder. I was nearly a victim of that very system two days ago. Death does not shock me in the same way it obviously shocks you.’

  ‘So will you help me?’ She could not believe she was asking him this. He was a stranger. But there was no one else.

  ‘Help you kill someone?’ He frowned. ‘You know, there’s a whole Street in the Merchant Quarter devoted to lawyers, and most of their cases deal with actions initiated under offworld laws, or private actions by Confed citizens, all filling in the gap where formal laws would rule in any other system. Despite the impression the media gives, killing someone in the Three Cities is not always without consequences.’

  ‘So you won’t help.’ Elarn sighed. ‘I do understand. I should never have asked. It was ridiculous to even think—’

  ‘Shh, Elarn, it’s all right. I didn’t say I wouldn’t help. I just want you to understand that it might be . . . complicated.’

  Elarn forced the words past the lump in her throat. ‘You have no idea how complicated.’

  ‘Then tell me,’ he said gently.

  Below, the performance finished to a light smattering of applause. Elarn felt the lump lift and the words started to pour out of her almost without volition. ‘Her name is Lia Reen, or it was. I was her legal guardian for a time. Then she left Khathryn and I had no idea where she went. Her people eventually tracked her here, and now they want her dead. Don’t ask me to explain who they are - you wouldn’t believe me - or why they can’t do this themselves - I honestly don’t know, though I think it’s something to do with the way the City is set up - but either I kill her, or they kill me. So I organised this tour as a pretext for visiting Vellern. And yesterday I even bought myself a gun. All the time I was hoping she wasn’t here, because then I would have tried but failed, and maybe that would have been enough for them. I had almost convinced myself that if she was here then I could do this alone, but then I found out what’s happened to her. She’s not an ordinary citizen. She’s become an agent of your League of Concord.’

  She paused, before finishing, ‘She’s an Angel.’

  ‘The person you have to kill is an Angel?’ the Consul said, looking intrigued. ‘You’re right. That is complicated.’

  Elarn heard herself rattle on, ‘She’s changed her name, of course. She’s using her middle name - well, it’s more a designation than a name really, a legal label saying you’re not a believer; it’s part of my name too, though I don’t use it. I think she’s trying to make some sort of point. Nual means “faithless”—’

  ‘“Nual”?’ She nearly missed his quiet interruption, but something in his tone of voice stopped her dead.

  ‘Yes, Nual. What is it?’

  ‘When a removal is to be performed, the Minister - he’s the man in charge of everything - he contacts you to notify you. He won’t tell you how your removal will proceed, of course, though it’s safe to assume that the next time you enter any sort of public space an Angel’s going to be taking a shot at you. But if you ask, he will tell you the name of the assassin assigned to kill you.’

  ‘Oh God!’ Elarn felt like she was about to faint. ‘It was her, wasn’t it?’

  ‘Yes . . . though I don’t feel any personal animosity towards her. She was, after all, acting purely as an agent of the Concord.’ But there was something in the even way he spoke that said this was Consul Vidoran the politician speaking, not Salik the man.

  The lump of cold fear was gone now, replaced by a lightheaded sensation. ‘I suppose that’s one way of looking at it. But’ - she wanted to raise her head, but if she looked him in the eyes she might never look away again - ‘I still need to know. Will you help me?’

  He was silent for what felt like hours. Finally he said, simply, ‘Yes.’

  The last of her strength left her and she collapsed against him. His arms were around her at once, supporting, protecting. For a while they stayed like that, but Elarn sensed, in the wake of the fear, something else, something as old and primal and powerful as terror, and right now, her only refuge from it.

  She eased her head back, feeling his breath warm her cheek, and turned towards him, seeking his mouth.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  Taro clenched his fists, let his head sink onto his chest and closed his eyes. C’mon chemicals, take me away from this. Colours swirled on the inside of his eyelids, but he could still hear the approach of the Screamer over the banging of his heart.

  There was a touch - surprisingly light - on his chin, and breath - strangely sweet - on his face. He remembered how fussy Scarrion was, how clean he kept himself, how he’d made Taro clean himself inside and out before he’d touched him.

  The Screamer made a faint ‘hmmm’ of disapproval and pulled back. Taro thought he heard him say, ‘How much did you give him?’

  Taro released the breath he hadn’t known he was holding and drew in another with a shudder.

  From the doorway, Limnel said, ‘Just enough t’keep ’im sweet fer ya, sirrah.’

  Limnel was wrong there. If he was doomed - and it looked like he was - he wasn’t going out like a meatbaby under the knife. Without opening his eyes, without thinking, Taro mouthed the words he was too weak to voice - ‘I’ll kill you’ - and lashed out at Scarrion.

  His nails raked flesh and someone yelped. He opened his eyes to see a blur of green and gold resolve itself into the Screamer, scurrying backwards. The other man got his balance back almost at once, leaving Taro to fall, slowly, inevitably, onto the cushions. Surprised you though, didn’t I? he thought as his face hit the floor. You didn’t think I’d try to fight back.

  The effort had taken the last of his energy. He lay where he fell, tears leaking from his eyes, while Scarrion carried on talking to Limnel, somewhere in another world.

  Someone grabbed his braids and pulled him up. He screamed at the sudden wrenching agony and tried to stand to relieve the pressure on his head. By the time he got his legs under him, sheer terror had dr
iven any positive effects from the drug out of his system. He allowed himself to be dragged, bent double and with streaming eyes, to the room where he and Arel had slept last night.

  The grip on his head was released. The mattress had been rolled out of the way and he fell forward onto the bare floor. He lay still for a moment, tensed for the next blow. Someone grabbed his arms and pulled him around until he was sitting against the wall. By the time he’d managed to focus, Resh had grabbed his hands and bound his wrists in front of him using plastic restraints. A cable ran from the restraints to an eye-bolt on the wall next to him. He gave Taro a gap-toothed smile and said, ‘He don’t want ya tryin’ that again.’

  Taro started to look away, then realised he still had one small advantage. ‘He’s a Screamer,’ he croaked.

  Resh stopped working and stared at Taro, his face falling into his usual dumb-but-ready-for-violence expression.