Sea Of Ghosts Part 31

Briana held up a hand. 'This is Ianthe,' she said. 'I want her tested for the usual, then put in with the current cla.s.s.'

Sister Ulla said nothing.

'I am aware of that,' Briana said, 'but-'

The old woman remained silent.

'Probably an affectation,' Briana said. 'You know what these-'

Sister Ulla continued to stare at the other woman in silence.

Briana wrung her hands in frustration. 'Obviously that depends on what you find,' she remarked. 'I want a full progress report on this one.' She glanced at Ianthe, before returning her attention to the old woman. A long moment of silence pa.s.sed between them.

Sister Ulla then turned to Ianthe. She frowned and said, 'Ignorant peasant. Don't you have any inclination of what I just said to you?'

'I'm sorry, ma'am,' Ianthe replied.

A ripple of laughter spread among the girls seated nearby.

'You will address me as Sister Ulla Sister Ulla,' the old woman said.

Ianthe swallowed.

'I do not approve of those lenses,' Sister Ulla said, 'regardless of any excuse Sister Marks might make for you. However, we will tolerate them if you show a spark of promise.' She set her books down on a desk, then grabbed Ianthe's chin and leaned close, peering into her eyes as though looking for something. Finally she sighed. 'You have the mind of a pebble,' she said. 'I don't expect you'll do well here at all. Few girls of your breeding ever do. But if-' She stopped abruptly and wheeled to face a group of girls nearby. 'Silence,' she said. 'Regina, Constance.'

A hush fell across the room. Two girls seated some distance apart stood up.

'This is a library,' Sister Ulla said. 'It is no place for thoughts like that. What do you have to say for yourselves? Constance?'

The nearest girl raised her chin defiantly. A tiny blonde imp of a thing, she nevertheless managed to maintain a demeanour of arrogance that Ianthe had seen in so many Losotan settlers. Her blue eyes burned with indignation. The other girl was just as fair, but long of face and hardly pretty. She looked across at the smaller girl for rea.s.surance.

'I was merely stating an opinion,' Constance said.

'Your opinions aren't worth stating,' Sister Ulla said, 'I suggest you both go and get yourselves cleaned up.'

Both girls looked suddenly fearful. And then a strange thing happened. As Ianthe watched, the smaller girl Constance clutched her nose. Blood trickled down between her fingers and spattered her desk. Across the room, the larger girl gave a soft cry and clasped her hands to her own face. Her nose was bleeding too.

'Go,' Sister Ulla cried, jabbing a finger at the door. 'To the nurse's office, before I sterilize the pair of you to spare the world your offspring.'

The two girls grabbed up their books and hurried away.

Briana smiled at Ianthe. 'There are various grades of psychic,' she said. 'At one end of the spectrum are the sensitives sensitives like myself, specializing in communication. Sister Ulla represents the other end of the spectrum. She will test you, and hopefully teach you, in psychic warfare.' like myself, specializing in communication. Sister Ulla represents the other end of the spectrum. She will test you, and hopefully teach you, in psychic warfare.'

Sister Ulla took Ianthe to a storeroom, where she bundled robes, towels, sheets and blankets into her arms, before showing her to a dormitory on a lower floor at the back of the palace. The windows overlooked a gloomy forest. A small folding bed had been set up at the far end of the room between the two ranks of proper beds.

'You've caused me considerable inconvenience,' the old woman said. 'The term is halfway finished already, and I refuse to go over previous material for your your benefit.' She watched as Ianthe made her temporary bed. 'Not that it matters much. I don't expect you'll pa.s.s even the most basic of tests.' benefit.' She watched as Ianthe made her temporary bed. 'Not that it matters much. I don't expect you'll pa.s.s even the most basic of tests.'

'What sort of tests?' Ianthe asked.

Sister Ulla grunted. 'Any psychic worth her salt wouldn't have to be told. Now stop fussing with that sheet and get yourself washed and dressed. Robes and underwear go in that chest. Supper is at nine.' She left the room, slamming the door behind her.

A door in the rear wall of the dorm led to a large bathroom, with rows of buckets and ladles set out on the chipped tile floor. Ianthe washed and then put on the Haurstaf robe. The shapeless cloth felt rough and heavy on her shoulders. She returned to the dorm and dumped her old clothes in the chest at the foot of her bed. Darkness was gathering among the trees outside the window. She hunted about for a gem lantern but didn't find one. Was it nine o'clock yet? Ianthe couldn't see any clocks, so she sat on the bed and waited.

n.o.body came for her.

After a while she let her mind wander out into the void. The perceptions of the palace occupants glimmered like hundreds of lanterns suspended in darkness. By combining their disparate visions Ianthe was able to build up an impression of a truly vast building, extending as far underground as it did into the sky. There were thousands of people around her from the highest tower to the lowest subterranean chambers. Guild members reclined in warmly lit lounges or sat reading in velvet-draped bedrooms, or looked out upon the dusk from high balconies. Cooks toiled in steaming kitchens. Servants brushed cobwebs from nooks and pantry corners. Ianthe allowed herself to float among the Haurstaf like a ghost, occasionally slipping into an unsuspecting mind to view one chamber or another with increased clarity. She saw black marble fireplaces and piles of blood-red cus.h.i.+ons, silverware like white fire and jewelled dressers and long hallways hung with gilt-framed paintings such a gathering of treasure as she had never seen. Snippets of conversation drifted through the aether: '. . . not a gilder between them. How do you think Jonah felt about that?'

'I can't imagine.'

She heard laughter and music and the clink of gla.s.ses and cutlery. And here she came upon a great hall awash with light and chatter, where hundreds of girls sat at long tables under flickering candelabra, feasting from platters of chicken, partridge, pastries and trenchers of steaming stew. A separate table at the top of the chamber accommodated a group of older psychics, all chatting and drinking wine from crystal gla.s.ses while servants cleared away the crockery. Among them Ianthe recognized Sister Marks and Sister Ulla, and she realized she was supposed to be there, in that hall, too.

Ianthe snapped back into the empty dormitory. She was late and hungry and . . . whatever would the others say? She got to her feet and bolted for the door.

Silence descended on the dining hall as Ianthe closed the door behind her. A hundred girls turned to face her, some of whom she recognized from the library. Their smiles were beautiful and cruel. They began to whisper among themselves as Ianthe walked between the feasting tables. She couldn't see any s.p.a.ces on the benches so she kept going until she reached the head table. Twelve women in long white robes looked down at her, with Sister Marks and Sister Ulla in the centre. Ianthe found little sympathy in any of their eyes. Sister Ulla positively glared, while Briana Marks wore a smile of faint amus.e.m.e.nt.

Sister Ulla said, 'So you finally decided to turn up?'

A chorus of giggles swept through the room.

Ianthe felt her face redden. 'I'm sorry,' she said.

'She wouldn't have heard the summons,' Briana remarked.

'No doubt,' Sister Ulla said. 'Which is why I told her to be here at nine.'

Ianthe lowered her head.

A long moment of silence followed, in which Ianthe suspected the twelve psychics were conversing. For all she knew, the whole room could be talking about her.

Finally, Sister Ulla pointed to one of the tables at the edge of the room, 'Take a seat over there at the end,' she said, 'and fill your plate with whatever the other girls haven't eaten. And don't dilly dally. You'll make the others late for bed.'

Ianthe retreated to the corner, where she found a s.p.a.ce beside a fat girl with auburn hair.

'And take those ghastly Unmer eyegla.s.ses off,' Sister Ulla added. 'I won't have them at the table.'

Ianthe hesitated.

'You'll remove them now, or go straight to bed without supper.'

Still Ianthe didn't move. And then she got up and ran from the room, desperate to leave before anyone saw her tears.

The other girls burst into the dorm in a squall of breathless chatter, but Ianthe kept her head under the blanket and her mind firmly inside her own head. She heard whispering, followed by silence. And then someone said, 'I don't think she can read minds at all.'

'Must we vocalize everything for her benefit?'

'I don't even sense a glimmer of talent.'

'Why go to the trouble? It's so tedious.'

'Did you see her dress when she came in?'

'I was too busy looking at her spectacles.'

They laughed.

Ianthe closed her eyes and tried to concentrate on her own breathing. After a while she heard the creak of bedsprings, and then the dorm became deathly quiet. But the silence never really felt like silence at all. She couldn't know what taunts pa.s.sed between the other girls, but she imagined the worst. Like a shuttered gem lantern, the light continued to burn even if you couldn't see it. The lack of sound was worse than anything.

Hours must have pa.s.sed, and still Ianthe couldn't sleep. And then she heard a floorboard creak nearby. Someone shook her shoulder, and a voice whispered, 'Are you awake?'

Ianthe pulled back the blanket.

In the darkness she could just make out a dim figure crouching next to her bed. She realized it was the fat red-haired girl she'd briefly sat next to at supper. The girl leaned close and whispered, 'Don't let them get to you. They pick on everyone at first. And Sister Ulla is a monster.' She pressed something into Ianthe's hands.

It was a piece of chicken, wrapped in a napkin. Ianthe began to eat it at once.

'You're from Evensraum?'

Ianthe nodded.

'I'm from Harpool, about thirty miles north of Losoto. My family are farmers, too.'

'We're not farmers,' Ianthe said. 'I mean, I don't . . . what does it matter?'

'Regina and Constance are the worst,' the girl said. 'They think they're Losotan n.o.bles or something. It's like they're always going on about Emperor Hu and how their families have arranged a special deal with him and they're going to be attached to his court. It doesn't even work like that. You don't get to choose where you're posted.'

'What's your name?'

'Aria. I'd better go.'

'Thank you,' Ianthe said.

Aria turned away, but Ianthe grabbed her and whispered, 'Are they talking now?'

'They're asleep.'

Ianthe lowered her head. 'I wasn't sure.'

'Silences are difficult here,' Aria said. 'But you'll soon start to miss them.'

Ianthe got up before dawn and sneaked into the bathroom to wash herself before the other girls woke up. She returned to her bed but didn't have to wait there for long. As the first glimmer of light crept into the forest outside, the dormitory door opened, and Sister Ulla marched in.

'Up,' she said, 'up, you lazy creatures. We've too much to do today.'

The girls rose, complaining groggily. Ianthe looked over at Aria, but the big, auburn-haired girl avoided her eye. Constance and Regina, the pair whom Sister Ulla had expelled from the library with bleeding noses, were not so coy. Constance offered Ianthe a cut-gla.s.s stare, then brushed her blonde curls from her shoulder in an exaggerated manner. She turned and smiled at her companion in a way that seemed to promise mischief. Regina suppressed a giggle.

'You!' Sister Ulla said to Ianthe. 'You've washed? Come with me.'

The Testing Room was further along the corridor from the dormitory. It was bare but for a table and two chairs in the centre of the floor. Tall windows overlooked an empty courtyard flanked by colonnades and facing a wall with an iron grate leading into the forest. Sister Ulla told Ianthe to sit, and then left the room.

Ianthe waited.

The courtyard outside grew steadily lighter. Ianthe watched the shadows draw back towards the easternmost colonnade. Birds hopped along the forest wall. Half the morning pa.s.sed by, and still n.o.body came. She wondered if this was part of the test. If she stood up and walked over to the window, would she fail? Perhaps she was supposed supposed to make a decision and leave? Were they watching her? She got up and listened at the door but heard nothing. She sat down again. to make a decision and leave? Were they watching her? She got up and listened at the door but heard nothing. She sat down again.

The morning dragged on. Noon came and went. It must have been early afternoon when Sister Ulla returned. The little old woman carried a gla.s.s bell jar, which she placed unceremoniously on the table as she sat down. In the jar was a frog.

Sister Ulla regarded Ianthe for a long time. Her crumpled face was unreadable, but her eyes were small and cold. Finally she said, 'Know where you are and who you are with. This organization gives nothing. If you want to be a part of it, you will accept that.'

Ianthe looked at the frog.

'Some members of the Guild like to think they can bend the rules,' the old woman went on. 'They expect me to make concessions for students. But I don't hold with that. The Guild is not a crown to be worn or a sword to be wielded. It is an ideology. Do you understand?'

Ianthe thought she should nod, so she did.

The old woman's eyes narrowed. Then she tapped the gla.s.s jar and said, 'I want you to kill this creature.'

Ianthe just looked at her.

'Psychic communication requires the lightest touch,' the old woman said. 'The ability to sense thoughts without disrupting the transmitting mind in any way. Psychic warfare, on the other hand, is all about causing stress stress. One forces one's own thoughts into the recipient's brain with the intention intention of causing disruption. A competent pract.i.tioner can alter the mood of another psychic . . . evoke depression . . . or rage. But a skilled warrior . . .' Her wrinkled lips made a semblance of a smile. 'A skilled warrior can cause actual damage.' of causing disruption. A competent pract.i.tioner can alter the mood of another psychic . . . evoke depression . . . or rage. But a skilled warrior . . .' Her wrinkled lips made a semblance of a smile. 'A skilled warrior can cause actual damage.'

Ianthe glanced at the frog again. 'What about control control? What about getting someone to do what you want?'

The old woman made a sound of disapproval. 'You can't etch gla.s.s with a sledgehammer, can you?' She gestured towards the frog. 'Psychic warfare techniques are more effective than the communicative disciplines precisely because there is no need no need to read the intricacies of the target mind. One's victim need not even be sensitive. Even a mindless ugly little creature like this is vulnerable.' to read the intricacies of the target mind. One's victim need not even be sensitive. Even a mindless ugly little creature like this is vulnerable.'

'But I don't want to hurt it.'

Sister Ulla stood up. 'I think it extremely unlikely that you will. Now, I have a cla.s.s to teach. I'll be back before supper to check on your failure.' She headed for the door.

Ianthe called after her, 'I'm just supposed to will will it to death?' it to death?'

'Do what you like,' Sister Ulla replied.

'But how? I don't-'

The old woman slammed the door.

Ianthe stared at the frog. The frog blinked. She allowed her mind to connect with the creature's perceptions and peered up at herself through its marbled eyes. Poor little thing. Poor little thing. She sighed, then got up and walked over to the window. A brown pigeon had perched on the forest wall at the other side of the courtyard. It pecked at some moss near its feet, then fluttered off into the trees. Ianthe opened the window and breathed deeply of the cool green air. She could hear other pigeons cooing above her and the restful chuckle of a stream coming from the woods beyond the wall. She sighed, then got up and walked over to the window. A brown pigeon had perched on the forest wall at the other side of the courtyard. It pecked at some moss near its feet, then fluttered off into the trees. Ianthe opened the window and breathed deeply of the cool green air. She could hear other pigeons cooing above her and the restful chuckle of a stream coming from the woods beyond the wall.

She glanced back at the frog. Then she stormed over, threw herself back down in her seat and stared at the miserable little creature, willing it to die.

Time dragged on. No matter how much h.e.l.lfire and agony Ianthe wished upon the frog, it simply crouched there, staring dumbly out of the jar. Its throat bobbed, and it blinked, and, once, it turned slightly. By mid afternoon a headache had crept into Ianthe's skull. She let out a long breath and rose from her seat, stretching her arms and neck.

Aria was standing in the courtyard outside, looking in.

Ianthe hurried over and opened the window. 'What are you doing here?'

The big red-haired girl glanced back at the courtyard wall, where she had propped the gate open with a wicker basket. 'We're supposed to collect mushrooms in the woods,' she said, 'but most of the girls just go back to the dorm. No one ever checks up.' She looked past Ianthe into the room behind. 'Is that a frog?'

Ianthe followed her gaze. 'I'm supposed to kill it.'