Sea of Ghosts - Alan Campbell [125]
Ianthe turned away and folded her arms. ‘No.’
‘So finding trove is just a lucky guess?’
The girl continued to stare at the wall through those etched Unmer lenses.
‘An odd little talent like that could be indicative of a greater sensitivity,’ Briana said. ‘I mean, I’m not mocking you. A gift for treasure-hunting is always going to make you useful to people like Maskelyne and your father. You might even make a good living from it yourself one day. But I think that with the proper training you could be capable of so much more. Wouldn’t you like the opportunity to develop your abilities more thoroughly, in comfortable surroundings, with girls of your own age?’
Ianthe snorted. ‘You don’t know anything.’
‘That’s true,’ Briana said. ‘But what do you know about the Haurstaf?’
Ianthe shrugged.
‘We provide various services,’ Briana said, ‘intelligence gathering, communications, containment and security. Our clients range from humble merchants to emperors.’
‘Containment?’ Ianthe said. ‘You mean oppression?’
‘We contain the Unmer humanely,’ Briana said, ‘without the need for walls. Our psychics simply monitor their movements and punish them if they step outside their allocated territory. We certainly don’t kill them unless we have to.’ She looked at Ianthe. ‘Would you rather we allowed them to wander free?’
Ianthe’s arms tightened around herself. ‘You brought war to Evensraum.’
‘Hu brought war to Evensraum—’
‘But you helped him,’ Ianthe retorted. ‘You make it possible.’
‘We facilitate the implementation of our clients’ strategies, if that’s what you mean,’ Briana said. ‘But we never start wars. In fact, our presence in a conflict situation usually saves lives. The bombardment at Weaverbrook happened because Hu chose not to use a Guild psychic. He didn’t make that mistake a second time.’
The girl snorted. ‘I didn’t see any psychics on the Evensraum side.’
Briana was silent for a while. Finally she said, ‘The Guild protects itself, first and foremost. If that means adopting a mercenary attitude at times, then that is what we must do. Any other race of people would do the same.’ She finished her coffee and set down the cup. ‘I’m not your enemy, Ianthe. I’m trying to help you.’
Ianthe gazed at the painting on the wall. ‘We’re going to Awl, aren’t we?’
‘That’s right.’
‘What about Maskelyne?’
‘What do you mean?’
‘I don’t want him near me.’
‘That can be arranged,’ Briana said. ‘If it turns out he held a psychic against her will, he’ll be punished accordingly.’
Ianthe turned to face her. ‘Executed?’
‘Would you like that?’
Ianthe didn’t answer. She looked at the painting again. ‘But what if you discover I’m not psychic?’
Briana laid a hand on Ianthe’s arm. ‘Eat your supper before it gets cold.’
Briana woke to the sound of rain pattering against the windows and the ever-present chatter of Haurstaf conversation: . . . warlord Pria Ramad seeks to advocate his rights in Chal over . . . six thousand nomio on the twenty-first . . . state that any aggressors will be dealt with using the utmost . . . seven units hiding in the Fryling Bay . . . bring to 254 degrees 20 minutes . . . Briana tuned it out as best she could, then got out of bed and padded naked across the carpet to the window. The ship rolled heavily under her bare feet. It was a dull, blustery morning outside. Rain streaked the window panes. The sea bucked and frothed under a leaden ceiling of cloud.
Her stateroom stretched across the breadth of the ship’s stern from port to starboard, with duskglass windows on three sides. Normally light and spacious, today the chamber seemed as gloomy as a cave. Briana opened the shutters of her gem lanterns, brightening the room. From her wardrobe she chose a pair of white linen breeches, a spider-silk