The Girl Who Wasn’t Min is a Black River Chronicle – although it doesn’t follow the Guild of Adventurers it is set in the same world. It’s the story of Mulligan – who is a man with a plan, and the four street-kids he recruits to help him pull off an intricate deception that will let him live the high-life. It’s recently been picked up (along with the rest of the Black River Chronicle) by http://www.creativia.org/, so watch this space for news!
Here’s an extract for you
Once the woman had been downed and dragged into the alley, Clara appeared from a puddle of darkness across the street. She was ostensibly the brains of the operation; meaning that she had most of the ideas, the biggest mouth and hated climbing up on to roofs. She had been orphaned sometime shortly before the summer of fire, and had been living in the Trickster Temple when it had burnt down during the invasion. She had been found by Lady Iona, Duchess of Pringle, who had forced her to wash and taken her to the Guild Below for what she styled as ‘further’ training. She liked to make sure people knew she’d had contact with Lady Iona, as she was convinced it helped her standing in the Guild Below. It didn’t.
She was in charge of gathering up their harvest greedily and shoving it into four potato sacks that she had brought for this very purpose. She had a good eye for what would sell.
“I feel almost bad,” said Min tugging the combs out of the woman’s mahogany locks, “She was actually lovely.”
“You’re not turning soft I hope?” grunted Angel who was trying to heft the woman’s skirt free without touching the body.
“I said almost,” returned Min looking a little wounded, Angel didn’t notice.
“You know what,” said Luce, cutting the lacing on the corset with a single run of her blade, “this is the best scam yet.” She watched the whale-bone and fabric relax as the tension suddenly released.
“They silk?” said Clara distractedly pointing to her stockings. Angel gingerly ran a rough finger over the sheer white fabric and nodded,
“She’s even got matching garters, with pearls on.”Angel sounded disgusted. Of all of them, she was the only one who actually despised the rich. The other three just saw themselves as wealth farmers, harvesting the ripe pickings from whichever unwitting soul came their way next.
“Right,” said Clara, “let’s have ‘em. She’ll do in her chemise and bloomers, unless they’ze silk an’ all.”
“Nope, just cotton,” snorted Min, as she took the fine gold chain from around the slender neck, ” She can find out what it’s like to walk on this alleyway without any shoes on.” Min had been quick to shove her own feet back into the stiff boots she had proudly re-appropriated during the last plague.
“I swear,” said Luce, checking that nothing had been missed before they rolled her on to her back, “if Min ever grows breasts we’re in trouble.”
“If I ever grow breasts,” retorted Min handing three rings to Clara, who stuck them in the least wholly sack. “I’m going on the game. It can’t be much different from this.”