Sea of Ghosts - Alan Campbell [141]
‘. . . 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 glasses 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 glasses 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 spaces 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 amusement.
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 space beside a fat girl with auburn hair.
‘And take those ghastly Unmer eyeglasses 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 passed 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 passed, and still Ianthe couldn’t sleep. And then she heard a floorboard