Sea of Ghosts - Alan Campbell [143]
Ianthe glanced at the frog again. ‘What about control? What about getting someone to do what you want?’
The old woman made a sound of disapproval. ‘You can’t etch glass 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 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 class 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 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. 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 hellfire 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.’
Aria frowned. ‘Why a frog?’ she said. ‘Normally it’s a mouse. Not that anyone ever kills it the first time. Sister Ulla likes to say it’s easy, but it isn’t. Animal minds are much harder to destroy than Unmer ones.’
‘Have you ever killed an Unmer?’
Aria shook her head. ‘The dungeons are full of stock, but you’re only supposed to torture them,’ she said. ‘There’s barely enough to go around. If we killed them all, we’d need to bring in more from the ghettos and that would mean less income from the empire.’ She looked suddenly serious, and lowered her voice. ‘Constance killed one by accident, and Sister Ulla was so furious she nearly expelled her.’
Ianthe thought back to the illicit excursion her mind had taken through the palace the night before. The palace had extended as far underground as it had reached skywards. Had all those people she’d sensed down there been Unmer?
‘Do you want to walk in the woods with me?’
Ianthe snapped out of her reverie. ‘What?’
‘Sister Ulla wont be back for ages.’
‘What about the test?’
‘She’s not expecting you to pass anyway.’ She held out her hand. ‘Come on, it’s a lovely day. I’ll show you the glade.’
Ianthe