Sea Of Ghosts Part 9

'Where is it?' Granger asked the girl.

'Where is what?' Hana replied.

'I'm not going to play any more games with you. Show it to me.'

Mother and daughter looked at each other. 'I don't know what you're talking about,' Hana said.

'All right.' Granger let out a sigh. 'Strip.'

'What?' Hana said. Ianthe looked suddenly fearful.

'Strip,' Granger repeated to Ianthe. 'Take off your clothes and hand them over.'

Hana moved between Granger and their daughter. 'Why are you doing this?'

Granger felt his face fill with blood. 'I'm not going to harm you,' he said through a clenched jaw. 'But if you don't give me the artefact right now, I'll find it myself. Even if that means stripping you naked here and now.'

Ianthe let out a sob. 'I told you what he's like,' she cried. 'He's no better than the others.'

'Don't do this, Tom. Please.'

'Then tell her to do as I say.'

Hana shook her head incredulously. 'You think she stole stole something?' something?'

He said nothing.

'I have no idea what you think she's taken, but you are not not laying one finger on her.' laying one finger on her.'

Granger grabbed Hana by the arm and dragged her away from the girl. Ianthe gasped and scrambled away from him, her eyes wide with fear. He reached for her, but she shrieked and kicked out wildly. Her boot caught his shoulder, causing his old wound to flare in pain. He grunted and surged forward, grabbing her arms to pin her up against the wall. She spat in his face.

'Stop it,' Hana yelled.

Granger was shaking the girl. 'What is it?' he said. 'A ring? A pendant? Show it to me.'

Hana seized him by the neck and head. She was clinging to his back, trying to pull him away, her fingers scrabbling across his sweating face. Ianthe screamed. Granger turned and slammed himself, and Hana, against the wall, again and again until he felt her grip relax. His chest tightened with pain, but he ignored it. He tore her arms loose and pushed her away from him.

Now he was furious. 'Where is it?'

'She doesn't have anything like that,' Hana sobbed.

'Then what is it? How does she know the things she does?'

'She can see through the eyes of others.'

Granger stopped. He was breathing heavily, his lungs straining to suck in air. His shoulder throbbed where the girl had kicked it.

Hana was sobbing. 'She knew about your money because you saw saw it,' she said, 'and she knew what your friend said because you it,' she said, 'and she knew what your friend said because you heard heard him say it. Inny was born with a . . .' For a moment she seemed to struggle to find the right word. 'I suppose it's a gift,' she said at last. 'She can only see and hear things that other people see and hear. It's the same with smell and touch she tunes into their senses. But she can't read their thoughts any more than you or I can.' him say it. Inny was born with a . . .' For a moment she seemed to struggle to find the right word. 'I suppose it's a gift,' she said at last. 'She can only see and hear things that other people see and hear. It's the same with smell and touch she tunes into their senses. But she can't read their thoughts any more than you or I can.'

A brine brine mutation? mutation? Granger considered this. Granger considered this. She didn't see me fill the jug with poison because it was She didn't see me fill the jug with poison because it was dark dark?

'What about the trove?' he demanded 'The Drowned have eyes too,' Hana retorted, 'and their vision is attuned to the gloom. They can see better than any human can. You never notice them, but they're down there. Thousands of them. Tens of thousands.'

Disa.s.sociated perception? Given the right heritage, one in a million conceptions might produce a psychic child, but Granger had never heard of a condition like this not in Awl, not anywhere. His anger egged him to argue with her, to beat the truth from her. He was sick of being lied to. And yet Hana's comment explained everything. 'She can see through my my eyes,' he said, 'listen through eyes,' he said, 'listen through my my ears? Even when I'm somewhere else?' ears? Even when I'm somewhere else?'

'You could be on the other side of the world.'

'And she can do this trick with anyone anyone?'

'Almost any living thing.'

'Haurstaf?'

Hana nodded.

Now Granger understood why she was such a threat to the Guild of Psychics. The Haurstaf openly sold their powers to every warlord who could afford them. In battles it was not uncommon to find telepaths on both sides, each reporting on the other's position. Emperor Hu might rage at Sister Marks, cursing both their expense and their infuriating neutrality, but he was helpless to act against the Guild. If his enemies used their services then so must he.

But if Ianthe could sneak behind the eyes and ears of anyone she chose to, she would be the perfect spy. There could be no secrets while she lived, not even among the Haurstaf themselves. She was worth more to the empire than a hundred psychics. Surveillance was an essential expedient of control. And Ianthe's talents could be turned against anyone.

'Almost any living thing,' Hana repeated. 'But there is one person whose eyes she cannot see through and whose ears she can't hear through.' any living thing,' Hana repeated. 'But there is one person whose eyes she cannot see through and whose ears she can't hear through.'

'Who?'

'Herself,' Hana said. 'Your daughter is deaf and blind.'

CHAPTER 5.

BETRAYAL.

Dear Margaret,Thank you. Mr Swinekicker paid off Maskelyne's Hookman, at least for the time being. Mr Swinekicker says I shouldn't worry about the future. He'll sort something out. Some new prisoners arrived the other day an Evensraum woman and her teenage daughter. It's going to take them time to adjust. It's hard to come to terms with the idea of staying here for the rest of your life. I survive because the money you send makes my life bearable. Without your help, I don't think I could go on.Love,Alfred Granger woke late in the afternoon to the smell of fried eels. Hot sunshine poured into the garret through open windows, throwing ripples across the ceiling. He rubbed his eyes.

Creedy was busy at the stove. 'Six hundred gilders,' he said, turning so that his clockwork eye flashed in the sun.

'Each?'

'Between us,' Creedy replied, returning his attention to the frying pan. 'The pendant wasn't worth s.h.i.t, and that engine wouldn't even bark. Your share's on that crate.'

Granger got up and stretched. He noted the stack of coins and bills piled on the munitions crate; it was far less than he would have believed possible for a haul like that. He thought about challenging Creedy, but then decided against it. Right now, he needed him. And if the sergeant's help came at a price, at least it was one he could afford. 'What time did you get here?' he asked.

'About an hour ago.'

'Do you ever sleep?'

'I thought we might try for that sea-bottle again.'

Granger shook the fog of sleep from his head. 'Give me a minute.' He went over to the window and took a p.i.s.s, then put a pot of water on the stove to boil. His shoulder still ached from this morning's confrontation. He ran a hand over the tough grey skin. It felt as hard and cracked as a dry riverbed.

Creedy scooped the eels onto a plate and sat down. He didn't offer Granger any. 'I've been thinking,' he said, 'about what we talked about before about deepwater salvage.'

'There's nothing more to discuss. We don't have the resources.'

'Not now,' Creedy admitted. 'But a few more hauls like last night, and we could start attracting some real investment. There are people in Ethugra with deep enough pockets. We'd make a hundred thousand in the first year.'

Granger shook his head. 'You're talking about going up against Maskelyne.' He didn't want to tell Creedy his real concerns about expanding the operation. Deepwater salvage wasn't something you could go into quietly. You needed a large ocean-cla.s.s vessel, cranes, power winches, deep-sea nets and a good-sized crew to keep everything running. It would be difficult to hide an operation like that. People would notice, and talk. He couldn't risk exposing Ianthe to that level of attention. Her talents were far too valuable to put on display.

His deaf-blind daughter. He thought about her walking down the wharf, stopping whenever he looked away. She had not been able to see the ground in front of her, except when he looked in her direction. He tried to imagine her growing up in Evensraum, unable to hear the wind in the trees unless someone else was there to hear it too. What kind of life was that for a child? The implications of all this were too intricate for him to unravel at once. He needed to think them through. He thought about her walking down the wharf, stopping whenever he looked away. She had not been able to see the ground in front of her, except when he looked in her direction. He tried to imagine her growing up in Evensraum, unable to hear the wind in the trees unless someone else was there to hear it too. What kind of life was that for a child? The implications of all this were too intricate for him to unravel at once. He needed to think them through.

'We don't need to compete compete with him,' Creedy said. 'He has all the deepwater gear we'd need.' with him,' Creedy said. 'He has all the deepwater gear we'd need.'

Granger looked up. 'A partnership partnership?'

The other man shrugged. 'Maskelyne's a businessman.'

'He's a criminal,' Granger said, 'and a murderer.'

Creedy chewed his food slowly.

Granger picked up the money from the crate. With these gilders and the four hundred from yesterday, he could pay off his debts at the boatyard and maybe convince Maddigan to order in some new planking for his boat's hull. Once the old girl was fixed up, he could trade her in against a storm-sealed deepwater cruiser, hopefully a tug or even an ex-naval vessel. About thirty or forty thousand would buy him something st.u.r.dy enough to cross the open ocean.

He poured two mugs of tea, then joined Creedy. 'Somebody stole that Unmer doll.'

Creedy sc.r.a.ped eel jelly from his plate and spooned it into his mouth. 'Lot of thieves about.'

'So it seems.'

'It's no big deal,' Creedy said. 'Now we have the girl.'

'a.s.suming she agrees to keep working with us.'

Creedy grunted. 'She doesn't have s.h.i.t to say about that.' He finished his meal and stood up. 'Are we going, or what?' doesn't have s.h.i.t to say about that.' He finished his meal and stood up. 'Are we going, or what?'

The two men took Creedy's launch back to the basin behind the Bower family prison in Francialle, leaving Ianthe behind. Creedy switched off the engine and stared into the brine with open hostility, as though he expected resistance from whatever lay below, and was fully prepared to counter it with force. They began to dredge the gloomy waters with a claw.

But again the bottle eluded them.

Shadows gathered in the basin and the ca.n.a.l beyond as evening approached. The sky between the buildings turned golden with the setting sun. Creedy grew irritable and then angry. His clockwork eye ticked and whirred as though struggling to focus. In his long whaleskin gloves, cloak and goggles he looked like some infernal golem. He hauled in the rope for the hundredth time, examined at the empty claw and then smashed it down on the deck. 'She's messing with us,' he said. 'There's nothing down there. You said yourself the Unmer only dumped ichusae in deep water.'

'Francialle used to be full of Unmer forges,' Granger replied. 'Conceivably, they could have made thousands of ichusae here. Changed ordinary gla.s.s phials and copper stoppers into something else.'

'How did they get all the brine inside them?'

'I don't think they did.'

A voice from above called down: 'You changed your mind about the map yet?'

Granger looked up to see an old man peering down at them from one of the barred windows above. His face was gaunt, his cheeks hollow from malnutrition, lending emphasis to his wildly protruding eyes. He gripped the bars of his cell with skeletal hands.

'Shut your d.a.m.n mouth,' Creedy replied.

'I told you there was no trove down there,' the old man said. 'Maskelyne's men cleaned it all out years ago. You want to be looking near the Glot Madera, but I ain't telling you where unless you buy my map.'

Creedy must have returned to this spot sometime after dawn, Granger realized. No doubt he had tried to look for the bottle on his own. This bothered him less than he would have expected. It wasn't against the law.

'Madman,' Creedy muttered.

'The original map was drawn by the Unmer,' the old man retorted. 'I saw it in a collection in Maggog, copied it exact from memory.'

Creedy s.n.a.t.c.hed up his baling tin, scooped it full of brine and then hurled it up at the barred window. The old man yelped and disappeared as seawater splashed across the prison facade. Some of the brine must have splashed him, for he began to howl in pain.

'Sun's almost down,' Creedy said. 'We'd best go get the girl.'

'Not tonight,' Granger said.

'What do you mean?'

'I mean exactly that, Sergeant,' Granger replied in a tone that implied the conversation was over.

Creedy looked at him for a moment, then shrugged. 'Whatever you say, Tom.'

They returned in silence. As Granger alighted on his wharf, Creedy looked up at him with malice in his eye. 'Tomorrow night, then?'

'Maybe. I'll send you a message.'

The sergeant spat into the ca.n.a.l, then gunned his launch away, spewing muddy foam in his wake.

Granger looked at his own boat. She was a common skiff, sixteen feet long from bow to stern, and built here in Ethugra three decades ago from sea-forest wood. Most of her hull spars and seats had been replaced by dragon-bones, but her hull was entirely original, and thus rotting. He ought to make some temporary repairs while he was still wearing his brine gear, and while it was still light enough to see what he was doing. Carefully, he climbed aboard, easing his whaleskin boots into the partially flooded bilge. The old wooden planks creaked under his boots. From the bow storage compartment he took out his foot-pump, tools, storm lantern and an open tin of resin. The resin had hardened, leaving the brush jammed upright like a handle, so he placed the lantern on the wharf, lit it and balanced the tin on the lantern's metal hood. While the resin was warming, he pumped water out of the bilge. Ideally, he should have raised her out of the water, but he didn't need a perfect repair. Just enough to get her to the boatyard.

He spent an hour applying the sticky resin into the caulking between the hull planks. It was fully dark when the job was finally done, and his oil lantern glowed like a lonely beacon among the glooming prison buildings. A cloud of moths flitted around the flame, while scores more drifted past like grey confetti on the black water.

Granger spied another light moving down there in the depths. He snuffed his own lantern.

Several fathoms down, the Drowned man Granger had seen earlier emerged from a submerged doorway under Dan Cutter's jail. He was heading south, hurrying across the uneven ca.n.a.l bed, swinging his gem-lantern to and fro as if searching for something amidst the rubble. The child who had accompanied him previously was nowhere to be seen.

A sense of unease crept over Granger, although he couldn't say why. He suddenly felt very cold. As he turned to go back inside, he happened to glance up. The sky was moonless and clear, crammed with stars that sparkled like fragments of mica. He spotted the constellations of Ulcis Proxa and Iril, and part of Ayen's Wheel glimmering low in the north. A tiny cl.u.s.ter of lights was travelling across the sky there. It stopped abruptly, then altered course, moving off in a westerly direction. Granger paused to watch it go. He'd not seen Ortho's Chariot for five or six years, and as he stood there he couldn't help but wonder what it might be. The last Unmer airbarque, travelling forever beyond the reach of the Haurstaf and Emperor Hu's raging indignation? The occupants must surely be dead by now. Or was it just a star that had lost its way?

He went back inside.

He'd been gone longer than he intended to, and his prisoners would be hungry. He went downstairs to check on them.

Ianthe watched him moodily from under her hair. Hana looked drawn and weary. 'Inny tells me it's a beautiful night,' she said. 'You saw Ortho's Chariot?'

Granger nodded. 'It's supposed to be a bad omen.'