The place with the blue curtains is Augusty’s, he told her, he rents you bodyguards that you can trust. But never, never get a guard from Lorreg, worse than Crawney, only half the brains. That fat man with the green stars on his head? He’s a pimp, a straight one if someone gets to me, you go to him. Dark Edward pimps too, yes, but don’t go near him, he used to be much bigger than he is. Over there you’ve got yourself religion, if you’re the kind who likes to mumble in the dark. The guy in the silver swoopsuit, he don’t have long to live, he talks too loud and he’s going to get a stingstick up his ass.

They reached the Silver Plaza: a huge open place at the end of the Concourse, a ceiling far above that spilled down silver lights, tiers of balconies and shops, welling music all around them, a troupe of dancers whirling in the street. Hal pushed his way toward them; Janey followed. He watched, smiling. One of the women, a blur in scarlet veils, spun up against him, stopped, and grinned. He reached under his cape and pressed something into her palm. She grinned again, and danced away.

“What did you give her?” Janey asked, curious despite herself, after they’d elbowed free.

“A coin,” Hal said, shrugging. “The dancing clicks for Hal, starlady. Probly that’s another lesson for you. You won’t get hit cause you’re with Hal, right? But you don’t hit no one, see? Hal spins straight, the ship men give steers to pimps who serve up girls without the stingsticks.”

Suddenly his arm tightened on her shoulder. “An’ there,” he said, pointing with his chin “There’s two more lessons for starlady, walking right together.”

She looked in the direction he’d indicated. A man and a woman were making their way across the Plaza slowly. The man was broad-shouldered and blond, dressed in a dark floor-length cloak with heavy gold embroidering. The woman was brown-skinned, with kinky black hair and a pale green uniform.