Sea of Ghosts - Alan Campbell [171]
Maskelyne sighed. ‘Where’s your telepath?’
‘She’s with the captain,’ the man replied.
Maskelyne raised his eyebrows. ‘And where would we find them?’
The soldier said nothing.
‘Maybe we should go and ask Commander Rast if he knows where they are?’
The man folded his arms. ‘You don’t think the commander knows what goes on?’
‘What’s your name, soldier?’
He didn’t reply.
Maskelyne turned to Mellor. ‘Turn us around. The commander can get this man’s name from the Haurstaf. Let them ask why Eagle One’s captain leaves one cannon unattended to attend to another.’ He climbed back into the wagon.
The soldier shook his head. He hesitated a moment, then strode over to the barrier and raised it. ‘I want your attachment verified as soon as the telepath gets back. You can put your gear in the store.’ He pointed at one of the earthen buildings, then turned around and marched back towards his hut.
‘You heard him, Mr Mellor,’ Maskelyne said.
The wagon moved forward into the encampment and into the shadow of the gun.
‘The Haurstaf abandoned you,’ Torturer Mara said. ‘Which, I am sorry to say, means you are now under the protection of the Guild military.’ He inclined his head at the large soldier, who lifted his baton and struck Ianthe across the face.
Ianthe fell off her chair and hit the floor. She couldn’t stop sobbing. The soldier picked her up again and shoved her back into the chair. Perspiration covered his broad forehead and dripped down his heavy jaw. He had taken off his jacket and shirt, and his muscles shone like marble under the harsh cell lights.
‘Your friend abandoned you,’ Mara went on. ‘Aria chose to deliver you here in exchange for an assured future with the Haurstaf.’ He glanced at the soldier again, who struck Ianthe across the face a second time.
Her jaw cracked against the floor. She clutched her spectacles to her face and wailed miserably, her whole body convulsing with sobs. The concrete floor swam behind a haze of blood and tears. Through the ringing in her ears, she heard them turn on the tap. They hosed her down, blasting her body with freezing water until her limbs were numb.
‘Briana Marks abandoned you,’ Mara said. ‘She ordered me to carry out this procedure. The faster we get to the end, the faster we can proceed with your dissection. For me, that’s where the real interest lies. I expect to find some Unmer in your brain.’
The soldier picked Ianthe up from the floor with one hand. Then he stove his forehead into her nose. She heard the cartilage snap. Her spectacles flew off, and she was plunged into darkness. He let her drop.
She jumped into his mind only to see her own miserable body scrambling across the wet floor. Her robe hung from her like a torn rag; her elbows and knees were bruised and bloody. She picked the spectacles up again and fumbled to put them back on.
The torturer peered down at her, his face expressionless. ‘Your own father abandoned you,’ he said. ‘Did you know he arranged to sell you to the Haurstaf? I’ve seen the letter myself. Of course the Guild does not negotiate with people like that.’
The soldier kicked Ianthe in the stomach.
She felt his boot break her rib. The pain made her vomit. Her lenses shifted to one side, and she felt herself slipping into darkness. She reached up and dragged them back over her streaming eyes. She coughed and sputtered and drew in a shuddering breath. The air tasted of bile.
‘Your mother abandoned you,’ Mara went on. ‘Didn’t she fail to protect you when the Hookmen came?’ He made a sweeping gesture with his hand. ‘She simply allowed herself to slip under the brine.’
Ianthe screamed. She tried to crawl away, but the soldier dragged her upright once more. He punched her in the face, then let her drop. Pain filled every fibre of her body. She couldn’t move, but simply lay on the floor and stared at the drain, shivering uncontrollably.
‘Even Maskelyne abandoned you,’ the Torturer said. ‘Like everyone else, he saw you as a means to an end, a tool to increase his personal fortune. Up until