Sea of Ghosts - Alan Campbell [45]
Hana gave him a girlish clap. ‘Are they good to eat?’ Granger sat down on the jetty beside the netted fish. He turned to her and grinned. ‘I don’t know about good,’ he said.
Some Ethugrans only bothered to boil brinelife twice, claiming it was safe to eat thereafter, but it was common to see mutations in those families. Granger played it safe. He wore gloves for gutting, and then boiled his catch three times, emptying the pan of ochre scum and refilling it with purified water each time. The fish turned from grey to white. It was after midnight by the time he’d dished it out into bowls and sat down with Hana and Ianthe.
This small, strange family sat on old munitions crates in Granger’s attic, eating by the light of an oil lamp. He’d opened his best bottle of wine, sweetened it with sugar to make it drinkable and dug out some blankets for Hana and Ianthe to use as cushions. The women were silent for once. Granger couldn’t stop himself from glancing over at them. Their clothes were ragged and filthy. He would have to see about getting them some new ones now that he had a bit of money. Mrs Pursewearer might sell him some. She’d know the sort of things they’d need. He’d have to buy planking for their cell, too, to raise the floor properly. Maybe he could stretch to a washbasin, run a hose down from the purifier. Watching Hana eat reminded him of the first night he’d met her at the farm in Evensraum. She been more curious about him than afraid. He suddenly realized he was staring, and she was looking at him.
‘How did you end up here?’ she said.
‘Long story.’
‘I never imagined you’d become a jailer.’
‘It’s only temporary, until I can get my boat fixed.’
She took a sip of wine, and grimaced. ‘Where will you go?’
He shrugged.
‘There’s no one up there, you know?’ Ianthe said suddenly.
Granger turned to face her. ‘Where?’
‘Ortho’s Chariot. There’s no life aboard.’
Granger grunted. ‘You can see that far away?’
She nodded.
He thought about that. ‘What’s the emperor doing now?’ he asked.
The girl stared into space for a minute. ‘He’s in his palace. In bed with three of his slaves. Two of them are—’
‘All right,’ Granger interrupted. ‘You shouldn’t be watching things like that.’ He gathered up the empty bowls, stood up and started for the sink.
‘You asked me,’ Ianthe called after him.
‘I didn’t mean for you to spy on people,’ Granger replied gruffly. ‘Have you never heard of common decency?’ He put the crockery in the sink and began to clean up, scrubbing the dishes rigorously with steel wool.
‘Don’t you want to know what your friend Creedy is doing?’
‘No, I don’t!’ Granger set down the bowl he was cleaning and stared at the wall.
Hana eased him aside and started to finish the dishes for him.
‘Why? What is he doing?’
‘He’s driving his boat across the open sea.’
Nothing unusual about that, Granger thought. He’s probably just running the engine to flex the launch’s muscles, skirting the city to avoid the narrow canals. He wouldn’t necessarily be heading out of the city.
‘I know you don’t trust him,’ she said. ‘Don’t you even want to know where he’s going?’
‘No,’ Granger lied.
CHAPTER 6
THE OLEA
Dear Margaret,
Last night I dreamed I escaped this cell. I was heading across open water in a strong steel boat, with the sun rising before me and the whole sea shimmering like copper. And then I woke and found myself trapped in this damn cell again. The same four walls every day, the same lousy food. And now there’s a dead man in the next cell. He died during the night, and Mr Swinekicker has just left him there. What kind of life is this? What kind of man leaves a corpse to rot?
Love,
Alfred
Granger let Creedy stew for three more days. He set up the washbasin for his two captives, running a tube down from the purifier on his roof, and he improved the floor in their cell as best he could. He used his own boat to travel to Averley Market, but it leaked so badly he dared not risk